The Gift
by BuffyAngel68
Summary: Darien recieves a precious, though unforeseen, gift, but will he be allowed to keep it? (The first chapter is a mild R. The rest is PG for occasional bad language.)
1. Default Chapter

Title: An Accident of Fate-- Chapter 1  
Author: BuffyAngel68 vg68@msn.com  
Rating: R- (Just to be safe)for passing references to a m\m sexual encounter.  
Summary: Darien recieves a precious, though unforeseen, gift, but will he be allowed to keep it?  
Timeline: None. Pick a time in 2001 you didn't like the direction the storyline went, put it there.  
Notes: Be aware, this is a rather..... strange idea, but I think I made it work. (P.S.: Please no comments on the science, if I got anything wrong. I'm not an M.D. Or a Ph.d or anything of the sort, and Quicksilver is a fictional substance, so it can do anything I say it can!)  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Bad. That's very descriptive."  
"I don't know. I've been throwing up.... feelin' all around nasty."  
"How often? Every few hours, less?"  
"Now that you mention it.... it's only been happenin' in the mornings."  
Half turning from studying the blood sample she'd just taken, Darien Fawkes doctor regarded him suspiciously.  
"And you're always tired?"  
"Yeah. Drained, no energy."  
Racking the test tube, she moved back to the administration chair where her charge lay, tugged his polo shirt out from the waistband of his trousers and slid her hand underneath, pressing gently on his chest, focusing around the nipples.  
"Yeowch! If you want a little action, say so, but quit with the rough stuff, wouldja?"  
"Tender? A little sore right there is it?" she asked him sarcastically, removing her hand.  
"Actually, yeah. You didn't have to use torture. I would've told you if you'd asked."  
"Alright, who put you up to this?"  
"When did we change subjects? Put me up to what?"  
"It had to be Bobby. Simply had to be. He's just sadistic enough to..."  
"Claire? What in Gods' good name are we talking about?"  
"This little practical joke that Bobby conned you into playing on me. I get it, okay? Funny, haha. Now go back to work."  
"Huh! Ain't that a kick in the head! I come to to you sick and get brushed off! Some keeper you are." Darien grumped, rising to his feet and heading for the door.  
"Yes, well, pretending you're pregnant is a fairly lame joke, so we're about even." Claire shot back as she turned away to store the blood sample just in case. When the sound of Darien hitting the floor reached her ears, she whipped back around and rushed to his side to find he had passed out. She slapped his face lightly and called his name, but was unable to get a response for several minutes.  
"Darien? Wake up. Come on... there. That's better. Now, what in the world just happened here?"  
"No.... it can't be... it's impossible... "  
"What can't be... Darien Fawkes! You don't mean to tell me you actually think you're pregnant?!"  
"I don't.... it is impossible, right? Even if.... I'm not responsible for this! It was his idea.... I think.... God, I don't remember!"  
"Darien, slow down. Tell me calmly, so I understand what you're trying to say."  
"You remember about a month ago, we finally broke the back of that smuggling ring.... Bobby and I... we went back to his place to celebrate. He had, like, a case of beer layin' around between the fridge and warm stuff... there mighta been six bottles left when we were done. We were so wasted... I mean, roaring, puke-on-your-dates'-dress, off our asses drunk! He started getting' emotional.... and touchy-feely..... he stumbled into me, I fell on the couch.... I have no idea if we.... did anything or not."  
When he finally found the guts to look into Claires' eyes, he saw the same two-word phrase flashing there that was dominating his own thoughts, but neither one voiced it. "Tell me this is the flu. Please. Tell me anything, just don't tell me I'm right...."  
"Of course you aren't. You being pregnant is pure science-fiction, but... come back to the chair, alright? Just... don't get up into it yet." she told him, helping him up off the floor and moving past him to recline the administration chair until it was nearly flat. Turning to one of the many drawers in the room, Claire retrieved a single sterile latex glove and snapped it over her left hand, cringing at the thought of what she was about to do.  
"Why not?"  
"The first step is to find out what you and Bobby.... did or didn't, and to be able to confirm or refute that, I have to examine your.... I have to..... take your pants off." {Good Lord, did I just say that?}  
"You mean... you're gonna..."  
"I have to, Darien, now just... do as I asked. I'm no happier about this than you are."  
An interminable fifteen minutes later, the exam was finished and neither party to it was at all pleased.  
"So?"  
"You can get dressed."  
"What about...."  
"There's definite scarring, nicely healed, which fits with tht time frame you gave me.. That, unfortunately, means something did happen, whether the beer allowed you to recall it or not."  
"No.... no way...."  
"I'm sorry. You and Bobby did the drinking, you and Bobby will simply have to find a way to deal with the consequences. Or not. You don't have to tell him. Try and forget it, and don't guzzle beer with the man ever again."  
"Of course I have to tell him! If I am..... you know, it's his too...."  
"I told you, Darien, you cannot be pregnant! It's absurd and utterly impossible."  
Fully dressed now, Darien moved closer to where Claire stood, but still maintained some distance, deeply troubled and unsure.  
"After the Simon Cole thing.... and all the other curve balls this stupid piece of junk in my head has thrown us, Claire.... when will you learn to stop saying that word?"  
Disturbed now, herself, her mind turning Dariens' words over and over, her attitude shifted swiftly from friend to scientist.  
"I'll look at the blood sample tonight. For now... go home and rest. I'll call in the morning if I find anything."  
"It's the middle of the day."  
"Leave that to me. Go home. Oh, and Darien?"  
"Yeah."  
"I'm not saying I believe that this is true. Not in the slightest, but...... no alcohol, no smoky rooms and don't even take an aspirin until you hear from me. Just in case. Right?"  
"Right. It doesn't exist, but let's protect it anyway."  
"Will you go, please?"  
"I am. Tomorrow morning?"  
"If I find something. Go."  
"Going."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
When he woke the next morning, Darien felt fairly good, but he rose slowly, knowing it might not last if he didn't take it very easy. Cautiously, he moved to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of apple juice, foregoing his normal orange due to the fear that anything harsh might tip the balance on his tempremental stomach, and took it back to the bed. Just as he was reaching for the phone to call in sick, it rang, and he drew his hand back as if he'd been burned. He knew it had to be Claire, and he was frightened of what she might have to say. On the fourth ring, he finally picked it up.  
"Fawkes."  
"Darien? Are you alright? You sound terrible."  
"I'll be fine once you tell me what the blood tests said."  
"Yes.... that's what I'm calling about. The results were.... strange. It's just a glitch, I'm sure, but.... I want you to meet me at Mercy Hospital anyway."  
"Hospital? Whoa! What aren't you telling me, Claire...."  
{A great deal, actually..... like what I really think is going on and how scared I am for you.} "You aren't in any danger, Darien. I need to do additional tests I don't have the equipment for, alright?"  
"What tests?"  
Knowing he wouldn't relent until he got a straight answer, Claire sighed and gave in on the one point.  
"An abdominal ultrasound and an MRI."  
His fear growing exponentially, Darien hesitated, then voiced his feelings quietly.  
"So you do think it's true."  
"I think nothing, just yet. I won't form an opinion until I see what today's tests reveal."  
"But you're not calling it absurd anymore."  
"I did some theoretical modeling on the computer last night.... and there is at least one way it way it *could* have happened, but the odds are so astronomical.... Look. No dark thoughts, alright? Get here as soon as you can."  
"Will you call Bobby, or should I?"  
"That's not a very good idea...."  
"I don't give a damn if it is or not. If I'm not a statistical impossibility.... then there's something really wrong with me. Either way.... I need my best friend."  
  
  
"Alright. You shouldn't be trying to get a cab this morning anyway. It's nasty weather. He should be there to pick you up in about half an hour. No telling him about any of this, right? We don't want him driving through a store window, do we?"  
"Right. See you in an hour then."  
"One hour."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
As they strolled into the lobby of the hospital side by side forty-five minutes later, Darien remained uncharacteristically silent, Bobby characteristically voluble and determined to get an answer out of his friend.  
"Quit it, Hobbes! I said I'm fine."  
"Yeah, that's about all you said on the way down here. Why does she want you in the hospital if you're fine, huh? Talk to me, damn it!"  
"She doesn't want me *in* the hospital! She wants to do a couple tests. I'm totally, one-hundred percent fine...."  
Just then, Dariens system chose to make a fool of him by overwhelming him with an intense wave of nausea. His face paling, he clapped a hand over his mouth and made a beeline for the mens room, Bobby right on his heels.  
  
When they emerged several minutes later, Claire was waiting for them and rushed to Darien immediately, assisting as Bobby lowered his partner onto a bench.  
"More nausea?"  
Darien could only nod.  
"More? What do you mean more? You knew he was sick and didn't tell me? What else have you guys been keeping from me?"  
"Bobby, please. Later, alright? I don't have the use of the machines for very long. We have to go now if we're to get any answers at all. Can you walk, Darien, or do you want a..."  
"No! No wheelchair. I'm okay, now. I can get there under my own steam." he protested weakly, rising slowly to his feet, following her to the elevators.  
Bobby, at first, maintained the classic posture of stubbornness, arms crossed over his chest, lips tight and thin, but he relented and made it into the cab just before the doors closed.  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Eeeesh! That stuff is cold!"  
I know, but this sensor needs a medium to help it move over your skin. Okay. Here we go. Good. Nothing unusual so far. Looking goo....Oh. Oh dear Lord. I didn't want to believe it.... but.... there is something there...."  
"Where? All I see is fuzz and snow. Is the cable out?" Darien joked nervously.  
"Right here." Claire said, pointing to a tiny spot of brightness on the screen. "It seems to be a very small mass of pure QuickSilver. It could be something else... but nothing we want to think about. After what the CAT scan showed.... I believe we all have a problem, and a decision to make."  
"It could be a tumor. As small as that is, and at this early stage, even if it is cancer it'll be easy to beat...."  
"No, sweetheart. A tumor would show up dark. I'm afraid we have to consider...."  
  
"Uh-uh! No way, not in this lifetime! You have got to be blowin' smoke, Claire. C'mon...."  
Shutting down the monitor and beginning to clean the gel she'd used off Dariens' skin, Claire refuted his denial.  
"You can keep saying no for the next nine months, in as many languages as you can find to say it in. The gland isn't listening."  
The likely truth finally beginning to sink in, Darien stared at Claire intently, fear burning in his eyes. Confused, Bobby produced a tiny smile and jokingly questioned his friends.  
"Are you two gonna tell me what's up or do I have to blow off your kneecaps?"  
"Claire. You tell him."  
"Uh, no, thank you very much. You're here for explanations as to why it happened, I'm doing theories and suppositions on *how* it happened. Go on. Explanations go first, but outside. The room is needed in about five minutes."  
Silent, the three friends took the elevator back down to the lobby, then moved outdoors so as not to disturb anyone if the revelation turned into a confrontation. Pacing back and forth underneath the cement overhang where they were all hiding from the late morning drizzle, Darien brooded for several minutes before he found the courage to say what he had to say.  
"Bobby. Partner.... remember back a month ago when we decided to celebrate finishing that tough smuggling case... so we finished off a case of beer? We were so drunk... I was laughin' at everything.... you were bawlin', and hangin all over me.... you bumped into me, we both landed on the couch.... it goes black around there, but we it looks like we didn't exactly.... pass out."  
Sensing something major on the horizon that he really wasn't going to like, Bobby paced a step or two away.  
"I remember you playing strip-spin-the-bottle with a bunch of girls that only you could see, my friend. That's pretty much all I remember.... Wait. What are you tryin' to say, Fawkes?"  
"I'm saying we... did something.... together.... and it wasn't exactly playing Barbies or curling each others hair."  
"You filthy minded perv! How dare you imply that Bobby Hobbes.... I wouldn't do that at gunpoint, never mind.... "  
"Talk to her buddy, 'cause she checked out the... relevant territory, and she says there's scarring.... like somebody got too happy with his.... happy stick.... an' I know I never did.... that with anybody while I was conscious and sober! Claire, save me here. I can't tell him the rest of this. He will shoot me, you know that...."  
"You've gotten the hard part over. Go ahead. You're almost finished."  
"That's what I'm afraid of. Look, Bobby, the point is something definitely happened, 'cause ummm.... there's a bun in my oven."  
"What?!" Hobbes squeaked, backing away and trying to laugh, though he sensed not even a hint of humor in the atmosphere. "A what in your what?!"  
"Knocked up, great with child, preggers? I'm gonna have your baby, Hobbes!"  
Stunned into utter stillness and silence for several seconds, Bobby Hobbes reversed his stasis abruptly, dropping to the grassy front lawn of the hospital complex, instantly out cold.  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
"Bobby? He's coming around. Here, give him this water."  
Slowly, Bobby opened his eyes to find Darien on his knees at his side, holding his partners' head up off the cool damp grass. Once he was aware enough to comprehend his surroundings, Hobbes uttered a sharp grunt of disgust and leapt to his feet, moving away from his partner as quickly as he could, heading in the direction of the van, this time with Darien and Claire doing the following.  
"Hobbes.... Bobby, please don't just take off like this, man! We don't know the whole story yet...."  
"Please, Robert. All I ask is that you listen. There are things you both need to know. Let's go back to the Keep and I'll try to explain what's happened."  
"I don't want any explanations!" Hobbes shouted, whirling in his tracks to face the other two. "You are sick! How could you say something like that, Fawkes?! God.... what a lame joke!"  
"That was Claires' first thought too, but I am not jerkin' either of you around! You saw what we all did on that monitor. Something weird is goin' on.... I need to find out what. I'm for goin' back to the lab an' lettin' Keepie here try to clear this up. You with us?"  
For a long stretch of minutes, Bobby merely stood and glared at his friends. Finally he gave a minute nod of agreement.  
"But he rides with you, Claire!"  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Bobby, please calm down. I'm merely trying to tell you what might be happening. Nothing's definite, and won't be unless the supposed child is born."  
"You mean something could go wrong? I could miscarry?"  
"Darien, you keep forgetting you aren't meant to carry in the first place!"  
"Well, it looks like I am, doesn't it? So science is pretty much up oh crap creek without a paddle on this one!"  
"Easy, partner." Bobby soothed, finally regaining his equilibrium and his usual cocksure composure. "Okay, Keep. Get on with it. If Fawkes is actually... pregnant, how did it happen?"  
"I can't be absolutely sure. This is only a theory you understand, but.... the evidence seems to indicate that when you.... entered Darien that night, being blind drunk, you were too forceful and tore the delicate tissue, causing bleeding. A small amount of that blood mixed with the semen..... this is where it becomes very, very theoretical. The gland is female, you both know that, therefore the Quicksliver DNA is, genetically female. What I believe happened is that a tiny amount of the Quicksilver in Dariens' blood acted as an ovum.... and was somehow fertilized. God knows how or why the end product finished up where it apparently has.... maybe it drifted back out through the damaged area before it healed over, but still, the odds of it finding an unobstructed pathway to the abdominal cavity and attaching itself to the abdominal wall..... this never should have happened....."  
Head in his hands, Darien Fawkes spoke through his fingers.  
"I need to hear it all, Claire. What's happening now?"  
  
  
  
"The QS appears to be separating from your bloodstream and forming what, in a woman, would be the amniotic sac around the embryo.... actually it's more of a zygote at this point, I think. About five weeks in, yes, I think that's about right. I'm no obstetrician of course, but...."  
"Claire!" Bobby shouted, glaring daggers at her.  
"Sorry. Once a science geek, I suppose...."  
Silent, Bobby moved slowly to where his partner sat on the edge of the administration chair and laid an uneasy hand on his shoulder. He left it there until Darien straightened and lifted his head, ready to ask the next question.  
"So.... what now? I mean... you're only guessing. You don't really know, right?"  
"Everything about you and the gland and this project has been guesswork from the beginning, Darien; since we discovered Arnauds' treachery, anyway. This is just a new, much more fantastical rung on the hypothesis ladder. Once I extract the zygote and do some testing, I'll know more...."  
"Whoa! You're not extracting anything! No freakin' way!"  
"There's no major surgery involved. It's just a simple laparoscopic procedure...."  
"That's not it! You're not takin' it out of me, period! No! I won't let you kill my baby!"  
"It's not a baby, Darien. It's a collection of cells at the moment."  
"Maybe, but it's mine."  
"Darien, be reasonable! Even if you could bring a child to term, which there's absolutely no guarantee you can, it might not be.... normal. It's being grown in Quicksilver, for Gods' sake. Who knows what birth defects that could cause.... or whether it will even survive after birth?"  
"I don't care! She deserves a chance! I've been runnin' from cops most of my life, Claire. You push this, and I'll be gone like a warm breeze. You'll never see me again."  
"Darien.... sweetheart..... please use your head for a moment instead of your heart. You have to see this will never work...."  
"It will! I don't give a damn what you or the damn agency say. This is happening to me.... I get to decide."  
"An' I don't get a vote?" Bobby suddenly interjected into the heated debate. "If what you guys are sayin' is true.... I'm this kids' dad. Don't I have a right to say anything?"  
"Of course you do, Bobby. Please, speak your mind." Claire said, sure that Dariens' partner would add his own voice of reason, skewed though it might be, to hers. He disappointed her utterly.  
"Until the fat-man put Fawkes and me together, every relationship, every friendship I ever tried to keep in one piece fell apart. It always hurt like hell. Our partnership... it means everything to me. I'd give my life for him. If tryin' to have this kid is important to him, it's important to me and I'm not lettin' anybody take the chance away from him. I'll defend his right to handle this whatever way he feels is the right way.... I'll defend it from now 'till doomsday if I have to. If that means goin' against you and the Agency and the Official, then I'll hand you my badge and my gun here and now. We clear on that?"  
  
  
  
  
Claire stared from Bobby to Darien, images of what they'd all witnessed on the ultrasound monitor filling her thoughts. Once again she saw the child that, inexplicably, was now growing inside Darien Fawkes. Her fears and concerns threatening to drown her simply with their sheer numbers, she closed her eyes briefly, drew several deep, cleansing breaths, and settled on the decision she was sure would alter all their lives forever.  
"I'm only clear on two things. We are all insane to think we can pull this off.... and the Official is about to have the stroke I've been trying to give him for years."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"One more time, doctor, just so I can be sure I didn't misunderstand.... or misconstrue what you're trying to tell me."  
"Of course, sir. Due to an accident of fate, combined with an idiosyncrasy of the QS that I never could have foreseen... Darien is pregnant."  
"Pregnant." the Official stated calmly, staring down at his hands on the desk, his tone belying the clear fury in his expression. "And the other party to this catastrophe of epic proportions would be..."  
"Me, sir." Bobby murmured, raising his hand only slightly into the air.  
"You're the accident of fate?"  
"I have been called that, yes sir."  
Veins standing out in far too many places for the comfort of the three people seated before him, the Official finally raised his eyes to confront his employees, his soft voice more an indication of his effort to keep himself under control than of his actual mood.  
"Let's recap, shall we? In one night of drunken.... mindless.... stupidity, you two have sidelined one of the most important projects our govenrment has ever seen.... for two hundred and seventy days."  
"Actually, sir, that's not correct." Claire interjected, praying she could salvage something from the all out debacle Darien and Bobby had created. "For one thing, if my calculations and the boys' recolections of the timing are right, Darien is already a little over a month along. Pregnant women have also been known to work into their eighth month. As long as I monitor him closely, I see no reason why he can't do the same."  
"I see two at least. First; if, as you believe, the QS is sustaining this.... child, any invisibility work he has to do has the potential to harm it. Second; everything I've seen says the Quicksilver is extremely fragile. There is no way this... whatever it is is going to endure through the kind of situations he'll be facing."  
"If I may, sir, I can address both questions. All this pregnancy will do is enhance Dariens' ability to do invisibility work. As the child grows the QS placenta will grow with it, providing a control on the buildup in his bloodstream, enabling him to go for longer periods between shots of Counteragent, resulting in a savings of time and money for the Agency, and agony for Darien. As for your second concern, being forced through his pores and onto his skin mixes the QS with oils, sweat and a dozen other body chemicals, diluting it just enough to make it unsound enough for him to shake off when he needs to. In its pure form, inside his body, it will be quite stable enough for the purpose."  
It was the Officials turn to shut his eyes for a long moment and breathe deeply.  
  
  
  
"I can't believe I'm even listening to this. The discussion is over, doctor. Hell, I never should have let it start... your orders are to extract this... thing, do what tests you need to, find out how it happened and prevent it from ever happening again. Sterilize Hobbes if you have to, just get this over with so we can all get back to work, hmmm?"  
Having prepared herself for her employers reaction, Claire was able to restrain her hatred and revulsion much better than Darien and Bobby were. Standing, she stared sadly down at the Official.  
"I had considered that an option myself, sir.... in the beginning. Fortunately, Darien made me see the grievous error taking that step would be. My answer, I'm afraid.... is an unequivocal no. I was brought here to care for Darien Fawkes and conduct research, not perform abortions. Without any reservations, and in no uncertain terms, I refuse your order, and hereby tender my resignation." she stated firmly, dropping a paper folded in thirds onto his desk and turning to stride out of the office. Hobbes and Fawkes followed her lead, dropping their own papers and trailing out of the room in her wake.  
As the three had planned when strategizing about exactly how to present the situation to their boss, the friends only moved a few feet down the hall before stopping and waiting. Claire began to count down from ten on her fingers. She hadn't even reached five, when the Official bellowed her name. Sporting a wicked grin, she leaned back against the wall and began to examine her fingernails, waiting for him to get frustrated, or worried, enough to actually come after her. Less than a minute later, he finally appeared.  
"Yes, sir. Was there something else you wanted to say?"  
"I don't appreciate being blackmailed, doctor."  
"Do you think Darien appreciated you treating what could well be his one chance at a child like a confidential document you can shred and toss in the nearest dustbin?"  
"If... I go along with this, there will be strict conditions placed on all three of you. I'll expect them to be rigorously observed, or this little game will be over so fast your heads will spin off your necks. Do we understand each other?"  
"What conditions?" Fawkes asked.  
"Come back inside and we'll hammer them out right now."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
"Okay. One last run-through on the rules so everyone knows where we stand. There will be full documentation of every stage of the.... pregnancy. Seeing as the keepers' house is considerably larger than Fawkes apartment, he will move in with her for the duration so she can keep as close an eye on him as possible, but there is to be no unauthorized physical contact between the two of you, or "hell to pay" will take on a whole new meaning. Any visitation by Hobbes must be kept to an absolute minimum. No interference, no strirring the pot, no whispering in Fawkes ear about breaking this contract. If the child is born healthy...."  
"No. I can see right through you, you slimy...." Darien growled, suddenly agitated. " I thought I was okay with this last one, but.... This baby will belong to noone but me, Bobby and herself. You... will never touch her. Do you really think I won't take off after she's born and put her someplace where you can't get to her?"  
"I think you won't give up the medical care both you and the child may need.... if it makes it into the world at all. I also think you know the truth, no matter how much you'd like to pretend otherwise. The gland belongs to the Agency. The QS sustaining the child comes from the gland, which belongs to the Agency. Chances are the child will be born with blood saturated with Quicksilver, which comes from the gland, which...  
"I get your point. Now you get mine, you scheming son of a bitch. If I decide to take off, you'll never see this baby, or me, or your precious gland again! I'll make sure she's safe. I'd rather die by the side of the road in stage five madness, than know you ever looked at her or spoke her name...."  
"And if he goes, your best agent won't be far behind him." Bobby tossed in, his own heart beating faster, adrenaline pumping in response to his partners turbulent emotions.  
"Bobby..." Claire warned, rising and moving to crouch at Dariens' side, alarmed at the color of his face.  
"No, he knows I mean it. I won't stick around if Fawkes doesn't. No freakin' way. The kid's my flesh and blood too, and you hurt mine.... I guarantee you're gonna get hurt in return."  
"The condition says absolutely nothing about hurting the child! I have kids of my own, you know. What kind of monster do you think I am? The condition merely says that if the child reaches the age of eighteen, and if it does inherit QS ability from Fawkes, it will automatically be under contract with the Agency at that time."  
"I just don't like it." Bobby argued. "It feels like slavery..... or Rumplestiltskin 2001."  
"I'm not asking for indentured servitude, gentlemen. We will, of course, be keeping an eye on the childs' development, but you and Fawkes will be allowed to raise it as you see fit with minimal interference from the Agency; provided that includes training form both of you in the use of any Quicksilver power it may turn out to have."  
"She! Not it, not "the child". She!"  
"Darien, calm down, please." Claire exhorted her charge, stroking his hand gently. "You keep saying she and her. Why is that? Can you sense something?"  
"Kind of.... I just know. I know I'm carrying a baby girl."  
"Can we speed this up, sir? He really needs to rest."  
"I'm not holding up the process. As soon as you all sign the contract, we're finished."  
"Bobby?" Darien questioned, glancing uncertainly at his partner.  
"I don't know, my friend. Once she hits eighteen, she'll be an adult. We won't have any say in her life anymore.... If we raise her right, she'll know exactly what the fat-man's capable of. He won't be pullin' anything over on her. And it's not like we won't both still be here for her then. Claire too, maybe. It'll be okay, I guess. We should sign, to protect you and her."  
For a long time, Darien was silent, wishing his instincts, his heart and his mind would all stop throwing confllicting messages at him. Finally, he sighed heavily and spoke.  
"Make it twenty-five, and I'll sign. Just in case she gets Bobbys' big brains, I'm not taking away her chance at college so can get your claws into her a few years earlier."  
"That's reasonable." the Official agreed, to everyones amazement.  
Once the alteration was made, Bobby Darien and Claire all put their signatures on the hastily written up document. Eberts witnessed it and scuttled off to type it up, make copies and file it all away.  
  
  
  
Without a war to fight any longer, fatigue suddenly washed over Darien and he had to struggle to keep his eyes open. Claire reacted immediately.  
"I knew it. Will you see he gets home, Bobby? I'll meet you at his place in a bit, alright?"  
"Yeah, sure. Fawksie. Time to head out, buddy. Let's go, partner."  
Within a few minutes, Darien was in the passenger side of the van and buckled in, and the pair were headed toward the younger man's small apartment.  
"My big brain, huh?" bobby chuckled. "Some scam, Fawkes. You got the kid college. He ain't payin' I'll guarantee that, but...."  
"That was no scam. It's the truth. You're way smarter than I am. I can read and recite. Big whoop, I'm a parrot. You know things, you know the world. That's the kinda smarts I want Bobbi to have."  
"You just said I did. Bein' tired make you forgetful, or somethin'?"  
"No, man." Darien corrected him sleepily. "The baby.... she told me what she wants her name to be."  
"Yeah? She's about a tenth of an inch long, no mouth, and she's talkin to you. Maybe I should whip a U-turn and get you to my shrink for a session."  
"Nice, Hobbes. You're gonna be sarcastic, I'm gonna sleep the rest of the way."  
"Alright, alright. So what's her name, huh?"  
Darien was quiet a few extra seconds, just to tease Bobby, but he did tell him eventually.  
"Roberta Claire. Bobbi, with an i, for short."  
"Whoa. Roberta Claire." Bobby mused, rolling it around his tounge and letting it echo in his head for a moment. "Yeah. I like it. It feels right... Bobbi with an i. That's cool. Hey, she sayin anything else?"  
"No, but I'm saying shut up and drive so I can get home and get some sleep."  
"Aww, don't go getting' all cranky, now. I know that's just my girls' nasty old hormones talkin'...." Hobbes tormented his partner evily.  
"Bobby! Just drive!"  
"Yeah, yeah. I really hope Claire can come up with some kinda male Midol, or somethin', 'cause I ain't dealin with his mood swings for the next eight months...."  
  
  
TBC  
I did warn you it was a weird idea! (Hehehe!) So? Does it work so far? R&R and let me know or e-mail and give vent to a pages long rant. I don't hold a grudge! 


	2. Week 8:Second Month

Week Eight/Second month: See Default Chap. for detailed info. (Light PG for one mildly bad word.)  
  
  
"Don't worry. It isn't another cold. Your stuffy nose is just a side-effect of the estrogen the gland is starting to produce. Speaking of sickness, you did take your vitamins this morning, didn't you? Darien. I'm waiting for an answer."  
  
"If I say yes, will that three foot long needle disappear?"  
  
Claire only frowned at her patient, then turned to Bobby, who, in his shared concern for the well being of Darien and the baby, had become her dependable snitch.  
  
"Don't exaggerate. Well, Bobby?"  
  
"I made sure he followed orders. Practically had to force the things down his throat, but he took 'em."  
  
"Lousy, stinkin'....." Fawkes mumbled, turned on his side in the administration chair, facing away from Bobby.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, keep talkin'. You try and bite me again tomorrow, and see what happens. You gotta do somethin' about this, Claire. You said the mood-swings wouldn't be showin' up for another six or seven weeks."  
  
"His mood isn't exactly swinging, Bobby. In case you haven't noticed, he's stuck somewhere between "pissed off" and "God, how I hate you all." " Claire informed him as she unwrapped the blood-pressure cuff from Dariens arm. As she retrieved the syringe from the rolling tray at her side, the Keeper stared into her kepts' dark brown eyes and tried not to flinch at the odd combination of fury and pleading she found there. "Ah-ah-ah. Leave that sleeve up." she admonished Darien gently, but with enough firmness that he obeyed. "You're getting a flu shot and a pneumonia vaccine whether or not you want them."  
  
"I don't. I really don't...." he whined faintly, crossing his arms in a defensive gesture.  
  
"I understand, but as I said, you aren't ill, and I refuse to let you *become* ill if I can do something to prevent it."  
  
"Isn't one shot a week enough to torture me with?"  
  
"You know perfectly well your new tolerance level has put you at one dose of counteragent every two-and-a-half weeks. Complaining just to complain won't get you any sympathy, and it won't get you out of your flu shot. Arm. Now, Darien."  
  
More whimpering and a few murmured curses ensued, but, eventually, Claire won the battle and moved off to stand near the doorway with Bobby.  
  
"Okay, so what's your take on why he's actin' this way? Gimme a hint, or a way to shut him up, or somethin', 'cause I'm on the thin edge of rippin' his tongue out an' sellin' it to a deli...."  
  
"Bobby! He's confused and upset. Give him some space and a little time to adjust, alright? I'm sure this is the last thing in the world he ever thought he'd have to be dealing with, so back off him a bit."  
  
"Hey, me either, Keep! I mean... I always thought I'd have kids some day, but.... not this way."  
  
"You are trying to maintain that realistic viewpoint we talked about, right? This is an unprecedented situation, so I can't know how anything will go. I'm feeling my way in the pitch dark, just as you and Darien are. Nothing is certain. She... she might not survive, and I just want to be sure you're ready for that."  
  
"If it happens, I'll accept it.... but I'll never be ready for it. What parent ever is? Fawkes! If you're done poutin' and sulkin' over there, can we go? We do have a case to get goin' on."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Darien grumped, swinging his legs down and rising to his feet. "Work, work, work. Not even a minute for myself to try and get my head straight..."  
  
As the pair left, Bobby, trailing behind, threw Claire a look that said 'See? See what I have to put up with?'  
  
Chuckling, she watched them walk down the hall, bickering as usual, then closed the door to the Keep and turned back to the notes she was maintaining on Dariens' pregnancy, jotting down the mornings' events.  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"He's doing well, sir. Physically, at any rate."  
  
"And that means?"  
  
"It's finally hit him just what's happened, and... he's having trouble adjusting to the idea."  
"Which one; being pregnant or being a parent?"  
  
This question, and the mild sarcasm in the Officials voice, caused a frown to crease Claires' brow.  
  
"The pregnancy, of course. Darien is devoted, and caring, and his heart is enormous. He'll be a marvelous parent, and if he has any doubts about that, Bobby and I will be sure they vanish before their little girl is born."  
  
"You neglected to mention stubborn, irresponsible, and prone to bouts of Quicksilver madness and felony burglary." the Official added, repressing a chuckle that would have sounded quite evil had it he loosed it fully.  
  
The look that swept over Claires' face upon hearing this callous, cruelly casual remark moved from shock to outrage in less than a second or two, and made her employer take a mental step backwards.  
  
"If that's the manner in which you choose to treat such a grave situation, Charles, I believe it would be in both our best interests to discontinue these personal reports." she almost growled as she rose to her feet, using all her control to keep her temper in check.  
  
"My opinions don't enter into it, doctor. If I want personal reports from you, I get them."  
  
"Not, I would assume, at the expense of having both arms broken or your throat ripped out suddenly. I'm a black belt in two disciplines.... sir. I can do it, as easily as you dismiss Darien and every other human being around you who doesn't immediately cow-tow to you and hang on every bit of arrogant, malicious crap you spout." she concluded, glaring directly at Eberts for a brief moment, making sure he knew exactly who she meant, then turning back to her boss. "My notebooks will be up to date. You'll get them after the baby is born. Until then, I really don't think I want anything to do with you. Good afternoon."  
  
"How dare you..."  
  
"I? How dare you try to con Darien and Bobby out of their child?! We both know you never signed that agreement, so you aren't bound by it. They haven't realized that yet, but if you come within a hundred feet of this baby from the day of her birth until the day she turns twenty-five.... they will. Then, there won't be anyplace you can hide, Charlie, and it won't be Simon Cole in Dariens' body coming after you this time. This time he'll know exactly what he's doing... and you'll never see it coming." Claire finished on a satisfied note, just before she stalked out of the office.  
  
Watching the abused door she'd slammed swing in towards him again, the Official swallowed hard, then tilted his head up slightly as he spoke to his assistant.  
  
"Step up the surveilance on all three of them, Eberts. This may have started out as an accident, but I'm not letting anything jeopardize it. Especially that over-emotional, irrational bitch."  
  
"I understand sir. The surveilance will upgrade to twenty-four/seven as of tonight."  
  
"Good man, Eberts. Good man."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"How could you let this happen, Bobby? How could you do this right now?!"  
  
Racing back to the Agency, Darien drove with one hand, his other fluttering onto the wheel and off again as he tried to keep his partner conscious. Bobby clutched his left thigh with mildly bleeding hands, holding a bandage tightly over a serious burn.  
  
"I wasn't about to.... let you get hurt! Just... aghhh.... just drive.... damn.... Fawkes... I'm gonna... pass out on you, here.... sorry..."  
  
"No, Bobby! Stay with me... C'mon, man, stay with me, Hobbes!"  
  
"It's okay. I'm not... that bad... let me rest.. just for a minute..."  
  
"Hobbes! No, damn it..."  
  
As he pulled up to the entrance, he was met by Claire, Eberts and the Official. He had called from the road and alerted the team to be sure they would be ready to help Bobby immediately. "Take it easy, partner. We're here now. You're gonna be okay."  
  
"How bad is the burn?" Claire asked as the other members of the medical team lifted Bobby out of the van.  
  
"I don't know. At least second degree, maybe third. He's out cold... you have to help him, Claire." Darien said, following the stretcher closely as it disppeared into the building.  
  
"We are. Are you alright?"  
  
"Yeah. We didn't know... I didn't know they had a freakin' flame thrower." he sobbed. "He just... ran in front of me.... don't let him....."  
  
"He's not dying, I promise. If the burns were over more of his body, he'd be in danger, but it's only a small portion of his leg. He'll be fine. He has an excellent team of doctors looking after him. How are you?" Claire pushed, wrapping her fingers around her patients' wrist to gauge his pulse.  
  
"I told you, I'm fine!" he screamed, pulling away. "Get in there and help Bobby!"  
  
"He's being taken care of, Darien. You're my priority at the moment. You have to calm down, and you have to do it now. If your blood pressure goes too high, it could hurt the baby. Do you want to be on bed rest for forty-eight hours, unable to check on Bobby?"  
  
"No.... you don't understand... him getting hurt.... it's all my fault..."  
  
"Let's go down to the lab and talk, alright? You can tell me everything there."  
  
"I wanna stay with him..."  
"They won't let you in right now. Please? Come to the lab. You need to take a few deep breaths and try to relax."  
  
His eyes never leaving the door to the room where the other doctors and nurses had taken his partner, Darien allowed Claire to pull him down the halway and into the Keep. "Sit down and let me check you out."  
  
Instead of complying, Darien drew a deep, though shaky, breath and moved to curl up in the chair once again. Drawing over her rolling stool, Claire decided to defer the medical checks she'd intended in favor of getting Darien to talk out his recent depression.  
  
"Alright. Tell me what's going on with you this week." she encouraged gently. "Last I was aware, you were doing the dance of joy over this baby.... now you seem so low and angry all the time. What's up?"  
  
"It's not her. I feel the same about her as I have since I found out I was pregnant. I can't wait to meet her... and I'm so in love it hurts sometimes."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"I.... I wanna talk about it. I'm just not sure you'd understand."  
  
"Maybe not. All I can do is try."  
  
Tossing a quick, dubious, glance at his keeper, Darien sighed and began an attempt at an explanation.  
  
"I was cleanin' up my place the other day, puttin' stuff away, dustin', doin' little things, you know? I found that video tape Kevin made me when we were sharin' space in my head. That made me wanna go find the note.... I started thinkin'."  
  
"Thinking that he should be here for this?"  
  
This insight earned Claire a momentary astonished expression, which quickly metamorphosed back into dilute fury.  
  
"Yeah... kind of. I started out sad, then... I don't know what happened. All of a sudden... I was mad. Really, really mad. We started this thing together. It was his idea for me to get the gland put in. He had a responsibility to stick around and see it through.... and he went and died on me. I mean.... it was like, what the hell is this? He promised me he'd be there to help me.... and Kev never broke a promise to me before! I never would have agreed to the surgery if I'd thought....."  
  
Experiencing her own measure of shock, Claire reached out to Darien and grasped his hands.  
  
  
"My God. How could I not have seen.... I should have realized this long ago, but we've all been wrapped up in the gland, and having to create the counteragent.... Bobby getting hurt while protecting you must have been the final straw.... I'm so sorry, Darien. I'm truly sorry."  
  
"Sorry? For what?"  
  
"You not having any time to properly grieve Kevins' death. At the time, Arnauds' treachery had us all scrambling to save your life.... none of us were allowed the luxury of being able to say a real goodbye,. After a time.... it was just something.... that was. Kevins' gone. On with the show.... "  
  
"Grieve? Of course I grieved for him! It's been two years. It's not like I think he's still alive. Well... not anymore...."  
  
"You may think you have, sweetheart, but what you're feeling right now says you're wrong." she said softly, stroking his cheek. "True grieving is more than acknowledging the loss and moving on. When you lose someone as close to you as Kevin was.... grieving can be a difficult, heart-rending and very painful process; one you obviously haven't been all the way through yet."  
  
Smiling wanly at Darien, the Keeper breathed a soft sigh of her own, and ran her slender fingers through his unruly hair, in a gesture that, at once, spoke of a mothers' comfort and a friends' reassurance. "Oh, dear. This pregnancy was already looking to be rough on all of us, but if you're going to be finishing up your grief over Kevins' death at the same time.... it's going to be far worse than I anticipated."  
  
"I don't know about grieving or any of that psycho-babble...." Darien growled, scalding, salt-laden droplets tracing their way from his eyes to his chin, soaking his shirt as they fell. "I just know he's supposed to be here to help deliver his niece.... and watch her grow up.... and he's not..... and I'm just so damn mad at him right now....."  
  
Moving to perch on the edge of the admin. chair, Claire gathered her charge into a tight embrace and held him, rocked him; consoling him as best she could until he didn't seem to need it any more. "Sheesh. Is it gonna be this bad the whole way through?"  
  
"Of course not, sweetie. It gets worse. I just hope you can work your way through this before week thirteen. That's when your emotions could start to go haywire at the drop of a hat, even without the added stress of grief as the cherry on the sundae."  
  
"Terrific. Now, just watch the stupid gland throw in a dash of QS madness for extra spice. Boy, if you like utter insanity on a whim, I'm just the total package."  
  
"True, but you're my cute little invisible maniac, and I wouldn't trade you for all the boring, sane men in the world."  
  
  
"Is that a compliment?"  
  
"It was meant to be."  
  
"Oh. In that case, thanks."  
  
"You're entirely welcome."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
A short while later, his mind crowded with far too many things to worry about and contemplate, Darien moved back down the hall to soothe one of his concerns. When he saw his partner enter the room, Bobby scowled and harried the medical staff out.  
  
"Fawkes. How are you? Did the Keep check you out?"  
  
"Listen to him. He's layin on a table with a bandage wrapped around his entire thigh, and a burn under said bandage that's probably gonna leave a scar for the rest of his life.... and the first thing out of his mouth, is to ask me how I am. Is that a man, or what?"  
  
"Oh, God. You only stall when somethin's wrong. What's wrong, Fawkes? Is it the baby? If it is, you better not screw with me...."  
  
"I was just yankin' your chain, Bobby. She did look me over, and I'm fine. Bobbi with an i is fine too. You.... look like hell."  
  
"I have a right to, don't I?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess you do. You in much pain?" he asked, squirming as he stared at the charred and tattered remains of his best friends' left pant leg.  
  
"Nah. They took good care a'me. Matter of fact, I'm feelin' no pain, if you get my drift. The docs said I shouldn't drive on the meds they gave me, so... you feel up to givin' me a ride home?"  
  
"Sure. Least I can do, right? If you hadn't jumped in front of me and popped a cap in that guy.... who knows."  
  
"Yeah. You woulda done the same. But till after the baby's born, you better not, you hear me?" Bobby warned Darien seriously as the other man helped him onto his feet and handed him the crutches that leaned against the bed. "Maybe after, too."  
  
"I'm a secret agent, Hobbes. Whadda you want me to do, stand at a safe distance from the bad guys and call 'em nasty names through a bull-horn? That'll scare a terrorist into throwin' out his weapon every time."  
  
"Why do you always have to be so sarcastic, Fawkes? All I'm tryin' to do is look out for the...."  
"Don't you dare say the M word! In spite of everything that's happened here, I am still a male of the species and you will not call me that!"  
  
"Hey, it was my sperm, so that would make me the father. When you come up with a politically correct word for a pregnant guy, I'll be glad to use it. Till then, in my book, you're the..."  
  
"Hobbes. I'm warnin' you....."  
  
As they stepped out the doors of the treatment room, all conversation ceased, out of the need to maintain their secret. The pair made their way out to the van, silently glaring at each other, and resumed the discussion the moment both front doors were shut.  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
After dropping Bobby off, Darien left the van in park for a few extra minutes and sat very still, hands draped over the top of the steering wheel at the wrists as he considered his options for where to go next. He immediately rejected returning to Claires' empty, echoing townhouse for it's high position on the lonely scale. Going to the graveyard to yell at Kevin in person was also out. His day had seen enough tears and incoherent screaming at someone who couldn't defend himself, and might not have understood the emotions behind the rampage, even if he could hear it.  
  
Eventually, an extremely comforting idea hit him, bringing a small smile to his face. Shifting the van out of park, he pulled away from the curb and took his first left, headed for his favorite ice cream stand, the thought of hot fudge, peanuts and vanilla soft serve lightening his somber mood considerably. When his mind insisted on presenting him images of his beloved sundae topped with a mound of crushed sour cream and onion potato chips, he shuddered and forced the picture from his mind.  
  
{Great. Weird cravings. Next my ankles will swell up, I'll be bitching about my back all the time..... if I didn't know what... no, who I'm doin' this for, my life would just suck.}  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
TBC....  
  
Thanks so much for the positive e-mails I received on the first part. If the feedback stops, I won't stop writing, or hold the next chapter hostage, but be aware that the ensuing depression could affect the quality of the work! (hehehe.) 


	3. Week 11:End of Third Month

Week 11/End of Third month---- Disclaimers and all such falderal in Chap 1  
Warning!!!: Near the end of this chapter, there's a couple of PG-13 words. Youngsters, the faint of heart and Kevin Fawkes Fan-club members beware!  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"You can't keep holdin' out forever, Fawkes. Eventually, Claire's gonna come runnin' over here an' drag you back to her place. Half your stuff is there already, and the other half's in the van. Fawkes. Darien. Time to go. Like now?" Bobby Hobbes exhorted his partner, who was stubbornly refusing to lift his butt off the couch and get on with the process of changing living quarters.   
  
"The fat-man didn't say I had to live there. He just said be there, right? That means I can stay here during the day and sleep there. Right?"  
  
Grim-faced, Hobbes moved away from the door and joined his partner, sinking onto the sofa beside him.  
  
"Wrong. Look, this won't be easy. I get that. This baby means a lotta big changes for all of us, but...."  
  
"I'm comfortable here. I know this place. Bobbi already thinks of this as home. I don't wanna confuse her..."  
  
"You still hearin' her?"  
  
"Not all the time. Just once in a while. It isn't really words. When you got hurt, she knew I was freaked..... and she knew it was about you. It shook her up. She kinda..... sent me a picture question, askin' if you were okay. I sent one back, showin' you just fine, and she calmed down."  
  
"Picture question? I don't get that. What's it mean?" Bobby asked, his curiosity warring with his usual habit of disbelieving anything he couldn't prove.  
  
"I don't really know. I think.... she uses images and words from my head to tell me what she wants to tell me, and to ask questions. I got a picture of you, then a pool of blood, then a question mark."  
  
"Translation: Is dad still breathin'? Pretty cool."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, it is. It's her language I guess. For the moment, at least."  
  
"Hopefully she'll grow outta that. If she doesn't..... this is gonna be one weird kid, Fawkes. I can't wait to meet her."  
  
"Comin' from the two of us? What else could she possibly be, Hobbes?" Darien laughed lightly.  
  
"Way too true. You ready to go?"  
  
"Yeah. I guess so. I'm sorry about bein' Mister clingy-needy. I'm so scared.... all this is still sinkin' in. Havin' to live in a new place, a new neighborhood.... it makes it harder to adjust."  
  
"I know, man. I'm havin' to do my own adjustin', too, remember. I'm gonna be a dad. That's meant doin' a major reshuffle of the cards in my deck."  
  
"All forty-six of 'em? What a chore..." Fawkes chortled as he rose and made a swift escape out the apartment door.  
  
"Hey! We said no talkin' about that in front of the kid!" Bobby shouted as he shuffled after his best friend, his speed hampered significantly by his still healing left leg.  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I understand, Keepie. We'll be there. Who says I let him whine his way out of anything? Fine, I promise to be tough-love guy. Right. See you there after we drop this last load of stuff off at your place. Bye."  
  
"Whine? She thinks I whine?!"  
  
"What else would you call what you were doin' when she gave you your flu shot back a couple weeks ago, hmm? Was that surrendering with grace and dignity? I don't think so, my friend."  
  
"Whatever." Darien grumped, slouching in his seat. "So what has she decided I need now?"  
  
"Nothin' to get all huffy about. She's set up regular ultrasound appointments at the hospital, is all. Your first one's in twenty minutes."  
  
"At least ultrasound doesn't hurt."  
  
"Yeah, well it's not for your benefit. It's so she can keep an eye on how the baby's growin' an all that." Bobby reminded him as he pulled over and parked in front of Claire's townhouse. As he got out and strode around to begin unloading his partner's few remaining personal items from the van, he found Darien was already there with a box in his arms and a plastic bag slung over the fingers of one hand.  
  
"Put it down, Fawkes. Right now."  
  
"Hobbes, for God's sake..."  
  
"Down! Count of three, then I go for my gun, Inviso-geek. One.."  
  
  
Admirably restraining his anger, Darien lowered the box gently to the ground, then leaned the bag against it.  
  
"Bobby. I am not a freaking piece of Waterford crystal." he forced through tightly clenched teeth. "I will not break, and I will not lose this baby because I carried a box of underwear and a bag with my pillow in it up a flight of stairs and into the house. Alright? Can we please find our way back to sanity before I punch the father of my child right in the nose?"  
  
The momentary tension broken, Hobbes breathed deeply for a moment, then moved forward the step or two that separated him from his partner. Staring at the van instead of Darien, Bobby spoke quietly, desperate to maintain the facade of strength and aloof, un-phaseable, impenetrable composure he was so comfortable hiding behind, but knowing that, when it came to this subject, his emotions made that impossible  
  
"Look.... I'm just tryin'..... to be careful. Claire keeps remindin' me that she can't know what's gonna happen, that a million an' one things could go wrong..... If I get overprotective, or suffocatin', just go with it, wouldja? This kid means as much to me as she does to you, Fawkes. I won't lose her.... before I even get to know her."  
  
"You won't, Bobby. We won't. I'm not stupid, man. I picked the two lightest things in there, and I wasn't plannin' on doin' anymore than that. I just need.... not to feel like I'm paralyzed from the neck down and can't do anything for myself. The time when I'm stuck in bed will come around fast enough. Too fast. Let me do some things now.... while I still can."  
  
Aware that Fawkes was far more right than he wanted to admit, Hobbes sighed and shook himself mentally.  
  
"I know. I know I get a little.... over-the-top sometimes. Thank God they stuck me with a partner who's willin' to go over with me." Bobby said, chuckling as he hefted one or two of the heavier, more bulky items off the floor of the van.  
  
"As long as I have some idea where we're headed, I really don't care. Can I take these in now?" he asked melodramatically, knowing it would either raise Bobby's ire again or make him laugh. It did both.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, but then I want you back in the van and buckled up. You hear me?"  
  
"I can hear. I'm not deaf."  
  
"Just dumb as a telephone pole sometimes."  
  
"Excuse me? You wanna repeat that...."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
  
"This is amazing. It looks like the umbilical is growing in two parts. One section is Quicksilver.... the other flesh and blood. Hmmm. I can't see where the second one's connected, but I have to assume your body know what it's doing. She seems fine, so she must be getting nutrition alright. Everything looks good so far. The QS placenta appears stable, it's growing at a nice steady rate, and your vital signs are all well within acceptable limits. Even your blood pressure is near normal, which is surprising, considering what you've had to go through these past weeks. Anything going on that I should know about, but don't?"  
  
"Not really. Bobby's protective streak has had a catfight or two with my independence, but we worked it out."  
  
"You're all moved in then?"  
  
"Yeah. Nothing's out of the boxes yet, but..... I didn't bring a whole lot of stuff, so don't worry. I just threw together what I really needed. Clothes, stuff like that."   
  
Gazing down at Darien, Hobbes gave him a confused look, then voiced his confusion quietly.  
  
"I thought you said you wanted to ask her about.... you know."  
  
"I changed my mind. I'm allowed. Drop it." Darien responded just as softly.  
  
"Can I ask her then? I really wanna know the answer."  
  
"No! The woman has the power to put me in a straight-jacket and toss me in a rubber room, Bobby! I'm damn sure not tellin' her...."  
  
"Boys. I have excellent hearing. Tell me what?"  
  
Ignoring Darien's fears, Bobby spoke up almost immediately.  
  
"The baby talks to him. Well, not *talks* talks, you know, but she communicates with him. I was just really curious if you've ever heard about that before."  
  
"No, but then who's ever heard of an invisible man getting pregnant before? As far as this situation goes, anything and everything is possible. Tell me more, Darien."  
  
"There isn't much to it, really. I'm not even sure if it's me doin' it, and I just don't realize...."  
  
"Darien. Just tell me, would you please? I promise, no straight-jackets."  
  
"She.... picks images from my mind..... and puts 'em together so I can figure out what she wants to say, or what question she wants answered."  
  
"Really? Can you give me an example?"  
  
For a second or two, Darien's gaze lowered and his attention seemed to turn inward, as if he were daydreaming, then he turned his eyes up to meet Claire's again.  
  
"You may not want to hear this message."  
  
"Whyever not?"  
  
"I remember you tellin' me once that bad, painful memories tend to stick longer and stronger than good ones, and you have to admit, you and me have made a lot of painful memories.... mostly involving a needle in my neck and me being held down on the floor. That bein' all she could really find in my head about you.... let's put it this way, okay? She just showed me a picture of Medusa from that "Clash of the Titans" movie, then a picture *after* her head was cut off..... and I swear I could hear laughing."  
  
"That doesn't bode well for our future relationship as pediatrician and patient, does it?"  
  
"Don't get too worried about it, okay? She doesn't really know you yet, and she doesn't understand the what's and why's of all the needles....."  
  
Letting his sentence hang unfinished, Darien suddenly paled, every drop of color fading from his face. Realizing his hands were shaking, he clasped them together and stared down at them.  
  
"Darien? What is it? Are you feeling alright?"  
  
"What happened, Fawkes? You were fine just a minute..... ago." Bobby stumbled, his own skin whitening as he realized what had upset the younger man so badly. "Oh God. You can't be thinkin' like that, my friend. You have to be positive, ya know...."  
  
"Bobby." Darien almost whispered, without bothering to look up. Hobbes cringed, never having heard his name spoken in such a tone of despair before.  
  
"No. No, Fawkes."  
  
Struggling fiercely to keep his heart in one piece within his chest, Bobby walked around the table Darien lay on and dropped onto a chair, facing the opposite direction from his partner.  
  
"Darien!" Claire said again, raising her voice, demanding his attention. "What is going on? I told you everything is fine...."  
  
"Arnaud, Claire.... the genetic anomaly..... the counteragent..... I can't do that to an innocent child....."  
  
"Wait a minute, sweetheart. There's absolutely no guarantee that you'll pass that on to your little girl. None."  
  
"Don't try to snow me, Keep. You told me nothing about this is for sure, so you can't know she *won't* get it. I'm outta here." he announced, swiftly going see-through and running out of the room past a still stunned Bobby.  
  
"Darien! Damn it! Bobby, go make sure he doesn't take the van. Bobby!"  
  
Pulling out of his stupor, Hobbes looked up at the Keeper.  
  
"He won't. He knows I'll check there. I've got the keys too. 'Course he could break in and hot-wire it...."  
  
"Then go after him, for God's sake!"  
  
"On this bum leg, I might catch up to him in about three weeks."  
  
"Yes... I'm sorry." Claire said, falling defeated onto the table where Darien had been only a moment before. "We have to find him, Bobby. In his state of mind.... he could do something to himself.... or the baby."  
  
"Never. Not in a million years. He'll come home. Just give him time. He was right, wasn't he? We both were."  
  
"Bobby..... "  
  
"Forget it. You go on home, just in case he shows up. I'll check his place and his favorite haunts. I'll call the fat-man and update him."  
  
"What will you tell him?"  
  
"That everything's fine. All he needs is one excuse to mess this up for me and Fawkes. I won't give him that, don't you either." Hobbes warned her, getting stiffly to his feet.  
  
"Alright. Let's get going. The sooner we can find him, the better." Claire replied, gathering her things and following Bobby out the door and toward the elevators, her mind racing with thousands of explanations and rationalizations, none of which, she knew, would soothe Darien's fears. As they were stepping into the elevator, an idea struck Claire. "Bobby, wait. Let's not split up just yet. There's one spot we should try together first. If it doesn't pan out, then we can separate, but...."  
  
"What? Where?"  
  
"The cemetery."  
  
"I thought a'that, but I don't know, Keep. Why?"  
  
"He's dealing with things beyond the pregnancy, Bobby. Difficult emotional things. I can't say more than that without his permission. Maybe you can get him to talk about it. It certainly couldn't do any harm, and might even help."  
  
"Not likely he'll talk to me about anything." Bobby grumbled.  
  
"What? Did something happen before you arrived at the hospital today?"  
  
"Nothin' major. He tried to carry some stuff into the house, I got worried an' over-reacted. We had a little blow-out."  
  
"That was what he meant by your protectiveness warring with his independence."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You can tell me all about it on the way...."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"There he is! Thank God I was right."  
  
"Take it slow and easy, okay Claire? We don't want him jumpin' ship again."  
  
"I don't think he will."  
  
"Just in case..."  
  
"I understand." she replied as they stopped within a few yards of Kevin Fawkes grave-site. "Darien? Please don't run. I won't come any closer. I just wanted to talk, to try and convince you to come back to my house, or the Agency....."  
  
Hunkered before his brother's headstone, one hand lightly tracing the carvings and words in the marble, Darien responded as if his keeper hadn't spoken. His words were pure fury and indignation, his tone, by contrast, was flat and utterly unemotional, which frightened both Claire and Bobby.  
  
"My brother..... was a manipulating, conniving son of a bitch. He sweet-talked me, and charmed me, and guilted me..... until I didn't know which way was up anymore. Before I had time to realize how blind he was to everything but his research.... it was over. He had the glory, I had the gland... plus Arnaud's little gift, of course. How could someone so smart..... not see the traitor sitting right next to him? He was probably clueless right up to the moment the bullets hit.... Good old Kevin. My bastard big bro. Look what he's done to me, Claire; done to me..... and to an innocent baby. In the name of saving my soul, he's condemned us both......"  
  
  
Before Bobby could stop her, Claire, trusting to her instincts, and how well she thought she knew her kept, moved swiftly to Darien's side, crouched close to him and dropped one arm gently over his shoulders.  
  
"I don't agree with most of that, but I'm not going to argue right now. We'll discuss it later. You know I'm working my ass off to solve the riddle Arnaud left us, Darien. I will find a cure. This may be the last thing you want to hear at the moment, but you need to be patient a little while longer. I'm so close. I could have the answer to Quicksilver madness before your little girl is born. Nothing is absolutely certain.... but I could. Will you trust me a few more months? Please?"  
  
Abruptly, Darien pulled away from Claire's attempts at comfort, stood, and stalked a few steps away.  
  
"You keep saying that. No guarantee, Darien..... Nothing's for sure, Darien..... I can't know what will happen, Darien..... Well who the hell does?! Get 'em down here, right now, damn it, cause I want answers! I want somebody to tell me what's going on!"  
  
Just as Claire stepped forward to try and calm a furious, sobbing Darien, Bobby brushed past her on the left and she halted, confused. Her confusion turned to shock when Hobbes embraced his young partner and drew him down until both were sitting on the ground.  
  
"It's okay, kid. We'll figure this out. Shhh. Take it easy. You'll be okay. Let it go, Fawkes, just for now. We can work it all out later, but for now ya gotta just let go.... Relax. That's it. Shhh. Breathe deep....."  
  
After several minutes, both men made their way back to their feet, Bobby graciously accepting Darien's offer of assistance. "You ready to go home?"  
  
"Nah. I need to work. Claire's place would be too lonely.... too quiet. All I'd do is think. Let's go catch some bad guys and empty out my mind for a while."  
  
"I can get with that. Back to the Agency it is. You coming, Claire?"  
  
"Absolutely, if you'll drop me off at the hospital so I can retrieve my car."  
  
"You got it. Wagons ho. The big tan bus is now departing from the curb...."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC....... 


	4. Week 14: Fourth month

Week 14/Fourth month  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Fawkes? Fawkes, come out. Please?"  
  
"After what you said?! Real likely! Go away, Hobbes!"  
  
"Fawkes.... I really wanna discuss this rationally, but I can't do that through a door...."  
  
"Oh, so now I'm irrational! You're just digging your hole deeper! Give up while you're behind, Bobby!"  
  
From the other side of the men's room door, Bobby Hobbes distinctly heard his partner begin to cry. Turning to the wall a foot or two away, Hobbes smacked his head into the plastered surface a few times, then left to go find Darien's Keeper. When he found her combination lab and office space empty he tried the Official's office and found her there, determinedly not talking to their boss about what he wanted to discuss and driving him insane.  
  
"Claire. I need a hand. If you could spare a minute..."  
  
"This is rather important, Bobby."  
  
"Yeah, well so is this! It's Fawkes."  
  
"Did something happen? Is he alright?" Claire questioned him, leaping up to join him at the door.  
  
"Not really.... I didn't mean anything by it, Claire. I swear it wasn't my fault. You gotta understand that...."  
  
"Robert. What's happened?"  
  
"I thought it was hearin' your middle name that let you know your ass was in a sling..." Hobbes murmured to himself, knowing it was there, regardless of what name she used.  
  
"I do know your middle name. If you'd really prefer that I announce it in front of the Official...."  
  
"No! I'll talk, I'll talk! Fawkes.....he barricaded himself in the bathroom..... an' I think he's.... cryin'."  
  
"Bobby! I warned you this was coming. What did you say?"  
  
"Nothin'! I mentioned he was startin' to.... show a little, is all."  
  
"You didn't! Oh, Bobby, how could you say something like that when you know he's so emotionally fragile! Take me to him."  
  
Once they reached the spot, Claire shooed Bobby away.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said I'll handle this. Go find something to do in your office. You'll only upset him further."  
  
"I'm tellin' ya it wasn't my fault!" Hobbes whined as he backed away down the hall, consternation dominating his expression.  
  
"Bobby, just go! Darien? It's Claire, sweetheart. Please come out."  
  
"Is *he* still there?"  
  
"No. I made the insensitive buffoon go away. Please open the door."  
  
After a long pause, Darien finally spoke again, his tone the verbal equivalent of a toddler's pouty lower lip.  
  
"He called me fat. Did he tell you he called me fat? Then... when I dared to get upset over that..... he said I was being irrational!"  
  
"He didn't say fat, Darien. He merely commented that your pregnancy is beginning to be more evident. He wasn't trying to hurt you. You know Bobby has a terminal case of foot in mouth disease."  
  
"It's the same thing. He's right. Oh, God he's right. I'm faaaat!" Darien wailed, surrendering to another bout of tears.  
  
"Sweetheart. Darien, you aren't fat and you're not crazy. I understand you're genuinely upset and you have a right to be, but your hormones are playing a big part here. They're causing you to over-react...."  
  
"I knew it! You think I'm irrational too! Just get away from me!"  
  
"This is the only men's room on the floor, Darien. You can't spend the day in there. I tell you what. I've got treats back in the lab. If you come out, you can have one."  
  
Another, shorter, pause followed this pronouncement.  
  
"Yeah.... like what?" he asked warily.  
  
  
"Fudgesicles. I'll bet I can even find a jar of peanut butter in there somewhere. Darien? What do you say?"  
  
A moment later, Claire heard the door lock click over and a sniffling Darien joined her in the hallway, furiously wiping at his eyes.  
  
"I hate this. I feel like I'm possessed by a demon toddler going through his terrible twos."  
  
"Yes, well, it won't be quite that bad. You'll get through it. I wouldn't expect your head to spin in a circle any time soon."  
  
"Don't count on that. I've already been through the projectile pea soup thing. You mentioned fudgesicles?"  
  
"I absolutely did. They're down in my cooler. You wouldn't mind if I had one too, would you?"  
  
"Nah. For dealing with me through all this crap, you deserve a case of 'em."  
  
"No, no. I wouldn't give up this time or this experience for anything in the world. Do you remember back at the cemetery, you said you were sick of not having guarantees about anything? There is one I can give you. If you and Bobby and I can all hang on, if we can help each other through this, the end result will more than make up for anything we've had to endure. Your child will be worth all the pain, and struggle, and emotional upheaval. That.... I guarantee."  
  
Darien's wan smile, and the impromptu hug he gave her, re-invigorated Claire's spriits immensely.  
  
"Thanks, Keep. I know you're right. We can do this." he affirmed, his expression hopeful and happy. Within moments, however the skepticism was back. "How many more weeks?"  
  
"Between twenty-four and twenty-six. You will get there, Darien. I'll see to it."  
  
"Sure. If Bobby and I haven't sliced each other up or tossed each other out a tenth story window by then. Trust me, we can drive each other nuts in twenty six *minutes*, never mind twenty-six weeks."  
  
"I won't let it happen. That's what time out's are for. One of you goes to your room, the other sits in the corner, and neither comes out until you learn to play nicely...."  
  
Hearing someone clear their throat behind her, Claire turned to find Eberts motioning her back into the office with his eyes. "I'll be there in a moment, Eberts. You go down and get your treat, Darien. I won't be long, alright?"  
  
"Yeah. Thanks again. You're bein' great about all this, really. I know I'm not easy to live with right now...."  
  
"That's what I'm here for, to be a friend first and a doctor second. Go on. I'll join you as soon as Charlie decides he's finished playing whale to my Jonah."  
  
"Whale.... that's a good one, keepie. Real funny. Whale.... I like that...." Fawkes chuckled as he strode off toward the keep.  
  
Gratified and relieved to hear him laughing again, Claire turned and followed the Official's right hand lackey back to the office.  
  
"Sit down, Claire."  
  
"I can't. At the moment, Darien needs support more than you need to harrangue me about giving you something you won't be getting. I made my views on this perfectly clear. You had your chance at personal reports. Your self-centered, antagonistic attitude destroyed that chance. As far as I'm concerned, the subject is closed. If you'll excuse me...."  
  
"Claire. We're not done talking about this."  
  
"Yes. We are. Mission briefing in an hour, you said?"  
  
"One hour. Not a minute more."  
  
"Fine. I'll alert Bobby." Claire stated calmly,before turning and striding from the room.  
  
Gazing critically down at his employer and friend, Eberts found he didn't like what he saw. The man's skin was flushed, there was a tic at the corner of one eye and a slight motion in his jaw indicated he was grinding his teeth.  
  
"Can I do anything to help, sir?"  
  
"Find me a new head project scientist who respects authority.... and cut their tongue out."  
  
"In lieu of actually mutilating a fellow human being, is there anything *else* I might be able to do?"  
  
"Antacid."  
  
"Of course. Right away, sir."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
  
Claire returned to the Keep to find her charge draped comfortably in the administration chair, knees pulled up to his chest to support the book he was reading, and a paper towel carefully wrapped around the stick of his fudgesicle to keep drips off the pages. As she pulled her treat out of the chilled compartment she'd set aside for such things, Darien glanced at her quickly, then went back to his book.  
  
"Bobby came by. We made up. It's all copasetic, now."  
  
"That's wonderful." she commented brightly, dropping onto the rolling stool and gliding it close to the chair. "He really does understand, you know. He's as excited about the baby as you and I are. He's trying very hard."  
  
"I know. He's got his own baggage to unpack. We joke about his paranoia, and his past.... but we don't talk about it. I think, *he* thinks I'd get all weird on him if he tried to start a serious conversation about what's goin on in his head, ya know? He makes it all about me, all the time."  
  
"Have you forgotten that the last time he was forced to focus on himself, he lost his wife?"  
  
"I didn't forget, but that was then. Now.....he's nothing like the way he described himself back in the day. He's in regular therapy, I push him about his meds almost as hard as he shoves those dumb vitamins at me every day..... He's okay, now. How do I make him see that I *know* he's okay, that I'd trust him with my life..... and with the life of our child?"  
  
"All you had to do was say it, Fawkes."  
  
Bobby's voice suddenly coming from the area of the door pulled the attention of the other two there.  
  
"I think I'll take a break." Claire announced, standing and moving to leave the Keep. "Mission briefing in about forty-five minutes, boys. I'm afraid I already pissed him off as much as his clogged arteries can stand for today, so don't be late, alright?"  
  
"We won't, Mom." Darien confirmed teasingly.  
  
"Good try, Darien, but I'm not having this baby for you, no matter how much you beg me." Claire joked as she disappeared down the hall.  
  
"Man, this has loosened her up a lot. Sorta like that time she went QS cuckoo with you. I kinda like it." Bobby said, smiling lightly.  
  
"Even better. No red-eye, no constant chatter...."  
  
"No playin' around under a tarp."  
  
"That part I didn't mind so much."  
  
"Yeah. I'll bet. Listen. If you wanna talk.... really talk an' get stuff out in the open, I can.... make one a'my contracted 'occasional' visits tonight after dinner."  
  
"Come *for* dinner. Claire's not so much into cooking, and neither am I at the moment. We'll order out. I've really been dying for Chinese lately."  
  
"Only on the condition that if you get any a'your weird-ass ideas, you warn me so I can shut my eyes."  
  
"C'mon, Hobbes. My last one wasn't *that* bad. Cravings are a part of this thing, remember?"  
  
"You only had to eat it. I had to watch . A perfectly good piece of cold fried chicken ruined...."  
  
"What? I like strawberry-banana yogurt, I like chicken. What's the big deal with puttin' the two together?"  
  
"Ugh! Shut up an' finish your fudgesicle, wouldja? We got a briefing to get to."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. You just watch it, or I'll be back in the men's room again before you can turn around...."  
  
"At least I know the secret to coaxin' you back out now. My girl's a choco-holic..."  
  
"I told you to quit with that stuff! I am still a man! no matter what's going on inside my body, it's a man's body! You really never *do* know when to shut up, do you...."  
  
Abruptly, Darien flinched and curled into himself, dropping his book, and what little remained of his fudgesicle, on the floor. His expression registered faint pain, his partner's, immediate panic. Heart racing, Bobby moved close and tried to talk Darien down, but it was a minute or two before the younger man relaxed. In that brief span of seconds, Bobby Hobbes lived an eternity.  
  
"What is it? Talk to me Fawkes?! Are you okay? Is the baby...."  
  
"She's fine. She's not too happy with us at the moment.... but she's fine."  
  
"Not too.... What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"She got mad.... and a little scared, I think, and she decided to show me how she felt. It was like this.... jolt of pain flashed through every nerve in my body at once. She wants us to stop fighting."  
  
"This was nothing compared to the throwdown we had this morning, or the one in front of Claire's. How come you didn't hear anything then?"  
  
"Don't know. Maybe she was waitin' to see if it was a regular thing before she...."  
  
"Expressed her opinion? Yeah, maybe. She's gonna have to get used to it, Fawkes. We didn't fight once in a while, I wouldn't know it was you an' me. Scrappin' is the foundation of our relationship, my friend."  
  
"Not anymore, it isn't." Darien corrected him, gazing down at where his abdomen was, indeed, beginning to bulge just the slightest bit.  
  
"Yeah. Right." Hobbes said quietly, his eyes led there as well. Laying one hand gently on the protrusion that represented his child, Bobby suddenly knew the truth of Darien's words. Within himself, he began to feel stirrings of something amazing and strange; a sensation he couldn't yet put a label on, but one that he sensed would alter him forever, once it had finished its work. "Don't be scared, Bobbi. I promise, no more fightin'. We're both gonna try real hard to be good to each other from here on in. Me especially. We love you, little girl."  
  
Turning to look at his partner, Fawkes urged him with his eyes to complete the statement, but Bobby slowly removed his hand, and turned away. He quickly cleaned up the mess on the floor and left the room with nothing but a faint smile for Darien, who looked back down to his belly and spoke the words Bobby couldn't.  
  
"Your daddy's right, Bobbi. You don't have to be scared or mad anymore. We do love each other. It's a weird love..... but it's love. Daddy can't say it yet.... but I'll work on him. We might yell.... a lot, but it doesn't always mean we're mad. Sometimes, it just means we can't figure out how to say what we really feel. It gets all tangled up, it comes out wrong..... it's a man thing. You'll understand later."  
  
Rising slowly from the chair, Darien walked out the door, closing it behind him, and headed for the men's room again, this time to use it for its intended purpose so he wouldn't be forced to leave in the middle of the briefing.  
  
{Yeah, fifth time today too. My mind and my soul love you, little one, but my body's starting to wonder what its gotten itself into....}   
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"You've got to be kidding, sir. This is a joke."  
  
"No, Hobbes. No joke. Arnaud claims he's dying. He wants you to meet him in the desert outside of Las Vegas, where you'll pick up his body and transport it back here."  
  
"You know damn well this is a set-up. You're just gonna fall for it, and send us in blind..." Darien exclaimed.  
  
"It might be a trap, it might not be." Claire interjected. "I don't have proof, of course, but all my tests have shown that the effects of being permanently Quicksilvered would be devestating to the human body. He has to have been experiencing a very slow, but constant, cell breakdown, which would cause severe pain. It would be like a form of.... virulent skin cancer, cannibalizing him from the outside in. The mental deterioration alone would...."  
  
"I see your point, doctor. So you're saying that by now, he very well could be dying."  
  
"If he isn't, I'm sure he wishes he were."  
  
"You have the exact coordinates for the meeting point?" Hobbes now asked.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"And we're allowed a small scouting team to go in ahead and check things out?"  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"What do you think, Fawkes? We ain't gonna get a much better deal than that. It's up to you, though."  
  
"Okay. We'll go. I hope to hell he's still alive when we get there. Killing him is my privilege."  
  
As he, Claire and Bobby stepped into the corridor, another, milder, nerve message from Bobbi doubled Fawkes over slightly, leaving him hunched for several seconds before he could move again. Hobbes rushed to his side.  
  
"The kid again?"  
  
"Yeah. There goes the 'I get to slaughter Arnaud' idea."  
  
"Darien? Are you alright?"  
  
"He's fine. New signal from the baby. When she really doesn't like what he's thinkin', she electro-shocks him."  
  
"Doesn't do any damage, but it hurts like hell."  
  
"I see." Claire commented as she watched Darien straighten up again. "The concept of murdering Arnaud has been vetoed, then, I'd say."  
  
"Definitely. With no appeal." Darien replied, taking a brief glance at his tattoo. "Only one red. We should be able to make this trip no problem."  
  
"We hope."  
  
"Yeah. Let's go hit a store for some bottled water and take off. I wanna get this over with."  
  
"Right behind you, buddy."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC.....  
  
Glad everybody's liking this. If I can manage this and my other almost complete WIP, more will be coming soon. 


	5. Week 14:Fourth Month-Continued

Week 14/Fourth Month: A stretch of highway in the desert, just west of Las Vegas, Nevada  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"I know this is a set-up. I feel it."  
  
"Just relax, Fawkes. You heard what the Keep said. Arnaud's gotta be half-way to Casino de Satan by now, if he ain't already there. He can't hurt us."  
  
"That's not what she said, Hobbes. She said he's in a lot of pain, and he's probably lost touch with reality as we know it. If anything, that makes him *more* dangerous than before. I don't like anything about this. It all feels wrong."  
  
"Yeah, well, until he shows us some sign, we got no clue where he is, and we can't do a damn thing 'till we do, so just sit there, drink your water and take it easy, alright?"  
  
"Easy? Easy? You don't get it, Hobbes. You don't understand how I feel about the guy, and you never will until someone kills your..."  
  
"Don't! Don't you dare say that!" Hobbes suddenly shouted, springing up out of the relaxed posture he'd adopted for the wait he anticipated. "It'll never happen! I won't let it!"  
  
"Hobbes...."  
  
"No! You take that back, right this minute, you hear? You're my brother. You're practically all I got left in this world, Fawkes, you and the baby, and for you to even let the thought into your head.... If that's what it would take for me to understand you an' Arnaud, then I'll never get it. I don't want it. We clear?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, we're clear, Bobby. I'm really sorry, man. I.... I wasn't tryin' to piss you off.... I just meant...."  
  
"I know what you meant. I have lost, Fawkes. I've lost a lot of things... and people. I've watched two partners die in my arms, I lost Viv 'cause I couldn't think straight and she wasn't patient enough or strong enough to stand by me through it.... I lost my job with the feds, my dignity, my sanity once or twice... You're it, Darien. You're the last knot on the rope for me. I... I can't let myself think of what would happen if it came untied.... I can't....."  
  
"Hobbes.... I won't do that. Never bail on your partner. You taught me that, and I swear I won't betray that lesson. I won't let you down..."  
  
As Bobby had done in the cemetery, Darien reached to comfort his partner, but Bobby gently shrugged him off, offering a thin smile to show no hard feelings were present. Fawkes, though confused and a tiny bit hurt, backed off.  
  
"Thanks. Glad to know you do listen to your olders and wisers once in a while. When I can get you to shut your mouth, that is."  
  
"Bobby...."  
  
"Not now, kid, okay? Sweatin' in the middle of the desert, waitin' for the hide an' seek world's champ to show up..... it ain't the time or the place. I'll be around after dinner tonight. We still thinkin' about orderin' in Chinese? I'm more in a mood for Thai."  
  
"It's my treat, you can order what you want. I even *hear* the words "hot and spicy" and I get heartburn. I'm sticking with white rice, light sauces and lots of veggies.... hey. Am I seeing things, or is that the red flag we've been waitin' for?" Fawkes asked, staring out the windshield at a spot along the lefthand side of the road where a small, very localized, dust cloud had begun to form.  
  
"Could be." Bobby responded quietly, drawing his weapon as he prepared to exit the van. "You stay where you are until I check it out."  
  
"Excuse me?!"  
  
"I don't have time for a fight. If it is a trap, I won't have you gettin' caught in it. Do as I say, Fawkes. For once."  
  
Though he fumed, Darien stayed in his seat until his partner came back and confirmed that Arnaud was there. "Get the back doors open for me?"  
  
Nodding, Darien slid carefully out to the ground and moved slowly around to the back of the vehicle to unlatch and swing open the rear cargo doors. When Bobby appeared, Arnaud's unseen weight slung over his shoulder, Darien found himself having to exercise serious restraint, until Bobbi delicately jolted him again, reminding him who was, at least for the moment, in true charge of his body. "The keep was right, in spades. He's in real bad shape. He was sittin' over there tryin' to make a sand castle. Thought he was on the beach, keeps askin' me where his mama and papa are."  
  
"He's fakin it. Just throw him in there and let's get home. I'm starved."  
  
"This is no put-up job, Fawkes. Arnaud is about two hours and a couple inches from shufflin' off to Buffalo. I'm not gonna throw around a man in pain like he was a sack of laundry. You gotta help me get him in here, and one of us has to stay with him on the ride back."  
  
"How can you be saying this to me? Hobbes.... this is Arnaud. He's a murderer, for God's sake...."  
  
"Not anymore, he isn't. Right now he's just a guy headin' off to meet his final judgement. You wanna judge him your own self before that happens, go ahead, but the only way he ever hurt me, is by hurtin' you, and as good a friend as you are, Fawkes, that ain't enough to screw with my values. I won't treat any dyin' man like garbage. You plan on helpin' me sometime today?"  
  
For several seconds, all Darien did was stand his ground and glare, but eventually he consented to assisting Hobbes in placing Arnaud carefully on a blanket that had been laid out in the cargo hold before they'd left home. "I want a promise from you, Fawkes. No helpin' him along. He'll be gone soon enough. He don't need you stompin' on the gas pedal. Right?"  
  
"Even knowing how bad I want to.... and how much he deserves it, I couldn't. Bobbi wouldn't let me."  
  
"That's my smart girl. Keep your.... other parent in line, sweetie." Hobbes replied diplomatically, patting Darien's stomach lightly as he crawled backwards out of the rear space.  
  
"Bobby. Don't make me do this...."  
  
"He needs a babysitter, and you can't drive anymore. If we had a tilt wheel, and if the seat wasn't so hard to move, I'd let you.... I didn't plan it this way, I swear. I had no way of knowin' how bad off he'd be. Hang in there, okay? It's.... one-thirty now. We'll be home by three at the latest. Ignore anything he says, and just.... hang in." Bobby apologized as he dropped to the ground, secured the doors and jogged back around to the driver's position.  
  
For the majority of the trip back to San Diego, Arnaud was quiet except for grating, rasping breaths, occasional moans and a few pain-shortened attempts at French children's songs. Darien was very grateful for the silences, during which he tried to convince himself he was truly alone there in the back of the van. Then his passenger would speak up again and shatter Darien's pleasant illusion, forcing unwanted thoughts and questions back into his head.  
  
{Could that happen to me? What about Bobbi? Will she have a gland of her own? Will she be normal, or have I doomed an innocent child to a life under the control of a needle? I promised I'd never abandon either one of them.When the counteragent doesn't work anymore, what will she do without both of us there? Can Bobby handle raising our little girl alone?}  
  
"Damn you. Damn you to the lowest, hottest, cruelest level of Hell there is, Arnaud." Darien spat in a low tone, hoping his partner would not hear. To his surprise, someone else did, responding lucidly, and as strongly as his constricted breathing would allow.  
  
"No... no need, Fawkes. I do.... do believe I.... condemned myself to.... to that place... long, long ago. Not....not much you can... do now to... make the sentence any.... harsher."  
  
"I can wish."  
  
"Yes. I... I would expect no less."  
  
"You're really dying."  
  
"It certainly feels as... as if I am. I hope to... hell I'll not be.... put through this much agony..... only to survive. After torture..... such as this.... one deserves to perish.... don't you agree?"  
  
"No. Now that I think about it..... no. I've wanted you dead for so long, but now that I know about this..... I want someone to make you immortal.... and leave you like this forever."  
  
"Hmm. Inventive.... you are the angry little victim.... aren't you?"  
  
"You won't make me mad enough to strangle you, Arnaud. Not now that I can watch you suffer.... in a manner of speaking. You go on with your dying. I'll just sit here and enjoy knowing you were in excruciating, endless misery right up 'till your last moment on earth. I want your final breath to be painful. That's a memory I'll treasure."  
  
"No.... no you won't. I.... I'm sure you'd like to think.... you will.... but you're the.... white hat.... Fawkes. White hats don't.... harbor.... nasty thoughts.... about the dead..... it's a.... regulation.... I think."  
  
"You'd be surprised how flexible I can be. The hat isn't always as white as I wish it was...."  
  
"If you.... knew me.... as well as you.... think you do.... you'd find... a few surprises... yourself."  
  
"You're a killer and a psycho. I need to know anything else?"  
  
"I didn't... start out that way.... you know. I was a white hat.... in the beginning. That was.... before Kevin.... the manipulating.... conniving s.o.b.... he knew.... just what to say.... to convince me that... you were a better candidate... for the gland.... than I was. You know... I never... intended to change the genetics.... of the gland. I was just so angry... I assumed.... if something went wrong... they'd have to... turn back to me.... but they just developed counteragent.... and life went on. That day in the hall.... I barely remember holding the...."  
  
"Shut up! You shut your filthy mouth, or I will strangle you right here and now, and I swear I won't regret it!"  
  
"No... I must... not a great deal of... time left you see. You need to understand.... I wasn't sure what was.... going on.... all hell breaking loose... the weapon was for.... protection.... Kevin appeared in front of me.... suddenly.... using his sweet words.... and his unassailable logic... to get me to stay..... and repair the... the damage I'd done. I didn't know I'd shot him.... not for a long time afterwards..... I didn't want to... remember... so I didn't. I... I know now. I understand.... the hell I put you through....I didn't start out..... I never intended to be this.... to be the enraged..... bitter man I've ended up as....   
When I realized.... I wouldn't be around for.... very much longer.... I put myself on a.... personal twelve step program. Idiots and crazies anonymous... I suppose you'd call it.... The... the most important step.... for me at least.... is returning... to those you've hurt.... acknowledging.... the mistakes you made..... and asking their forgiveness.... I won't bother with the last part. I understand.... you may never forgive *or* forget.... despite the off-white hat..... but I had to.... to see you... one last time.... I had to say I'm sorry.... for my own soul's sake.... as much as for yours.... I am.... so sorry.... about how this has all turned out.... I was wrong, Fawkes.... Darien.... I can't change things.... but I can say the words.... and mean them sincerely.... I'm sorry...."  
  
Darien, knees pulled in, had his hands over his ears as tightly as he could press them, but even his constant, quiet repeats of 'Shut up, shut up shut up!' couldn't block all sound, couldn't stop him hearing Arnaud's apology. Within him, Bobbi was responding to his turmoil in her own way, by sending him soothing pictures intended to calm and relax him.  
  
When he finally realized that Arnaud hadn't spoken for several minutes, Fawkes dared to look at the spot where his enemy had been laid and was shocked to find he could now see the man's body, ravaged and emaciated as it was, but the chest no longer rose and fell, and the head had slipped a little to one side. It was only a matter of a few more minutes before the van pulled up in front of the Agency, but those minutes, trapped in the cargo hold with the lifeless body of what had been his greatest enemy, were years to Darien Fawkes.  
  
The second that Bobby swung open the doors to the rear section, Darien, despite his current condition, practically leapt from the vehicle and ran into the depths of the building, desperate to be alone and to be away from Arnaud. His partner, having some idea where to find him, continued to help with the unloading of the corpse.  
  
"Fawkes? Fawkes, you here?" Bobby called softly as he approached the padded cell where Darien was sometimes forced to exist for hours, even days at a time when unforseen events required it. "Fawksie? Let me help, buddy. Just tell me what happened..." he offered, moving cautiously through the open door.  
  
"Get out. Get the hell out.... I can't talk about this... about him.... just go.... I'll be fine...." Fawkes ground out, only to succumb moments later to a brief period of frenzied pounding on the walls, which caused Bobby to feel he had to step in and restore calm. Placing himself between his partner and the wall, he grasped both of Darien's hands tightly in his own, refusing to loosen up until Fawkes ceased struggling.  
  
"Fawkes! Stop it... cut it out, buddy.... this isn't doin' either of ya any good.... just calm down. That's it. Better. Now, tell me what he did. I'll do my best to understand, okay?"  
  
"You can't.... noone ever could." Darien mumbled, pulling his hands free and walking away. "It's not what he did... it's what he said."  
  
"I warned ya to ignore him, partner. I knew he'd try to mess with your head...."  
  
"Oh, he did that alright. Right up to the end, he was still a master of the head-game."  
  
"What did he say? What could he say to throw you this bad?"  
  
"You'd never believe me."  
  
"Yeah, I will. Always. Talk to me, Fawkes."  
  
For a long time, the atmosphere in the room only grew more and more strained as Darien struggled with his knowledge, what it meant and what came next, but finally he broke the silence and the tension.  
  
"He... he said.... he was sorry..... and I believed him, Bobby. I had to believe him. Anything else... and I would have laughed him all the way to Hell.... but I'm sorry? What am I supposed to do with that? He was supposed to be arrogant.... and mean-spirited.... and instead he's all.... apologetic, and wantin' to tell me the truth about Kevin's.....about the day he killed my brother. What do I do with that? Huh? What?"  
  
"I don't know, partner. I don't have a clue. You really think it was the truth?"  
  
"Yeah. Comin' from him, I shouldn't..... but he was dyin', Bobby. He had no reason to lie. I think it was the truth."  
  
"You feel like getting' some of the weight off? I'll listen if...."  
  
"No. Not now. Maybe..... maybe someday. It's.... it's a lot, you know? I need to.... Look. I'll be okay now, I swear. No more beatin' up on the rubber room, but I need to be here for a while. I want to be here.... not out there."  
  
"I don't know, Fawkes...."  
  
"The place calms me down, Hobbes. I know it might sound weird.... but it does. I have to be alone, though..... to think."  
  
"Okay. I'll come get ya when it's time to go pick up dinner and head home." Bobby acquiesced, backing out of the room slowly  
  
"Yeah. That sounds good. Close the door on your way out, but don't lock it."  
  
"Gotcha. I'll let every body know there's a do not disturb sign up for a while."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Sure, buddy. I'll see ya in a couple hours."  
  
"Right."  
  
As soon as Bobby had exited the room, Darien slowly made his way down to the floor, then stretched out on his back, one hand on his abdomen, the other arm thrown over his eyes.  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC....   
and soon. Sorry for the delay, but I got really sick with this bronchial thing that's hit like a bomb here in the Northeast. Better now, and writing resumes! 


	6. Week17: Fifth Month

Week 17/Fifth Month  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
SUNDAY NIGHT  
  
"I'm sorry. You're not getting out of this, Darien. Why you're fussing over it tonight, I'm sure I don't know. The test isn't until tomorrow. Eat your dinner."  
  
"I'm.... complaining for the same reason as always. Not the world's biggest fan of needles, here, remember?"  
  
"I think it's something more than that."  
  
"Trust me, that's enough."  
  
"I really can't see any reason for concern. The test is a formality. Your baby is healthy, Darien. I don't believe anything serious will show up."  
  
A long moment stretched out between the two friends before Darien Fawkes found the courage to voice his fear.  
  
"But you don't know, Claire. A million and one different problems could come up, including ones normal... pregnant people never have to face."  
  
"This pregnancy is following a perfectly normal path. The compostion of the placenta and the gender of the patient notwithstanding, of course. Everything's fine. The MSAFP is an absolute necessity that should be two weeks behind us, and would be if I weren't so weak and compassionate. Now eat, would you please?"  
  
"That's another thing. I can't eat this stuff one more night. I need pizza, italian take-out, sushi... anything but this."  
  
"Not more than once every two or three weeks you don't. Tofu is the perfect food for you right now. It's got the calcium and a lot of the vitamins and minerals you and the baby need."  
  
"It tastes like liquified foam rubber, no matter what you put on top of it, and it looks like divinty fudge, or vanilla pudding, which is what I wish it tasted like, which makes it even more disappointing when I bite into it. Why don't you melt the couch cushions, chop 'em up and slap it on a plate? It'd be about the same..... "  
  
"Alright, you two. This is the third night in a row I've had to sit here and listen to the Great Tofu Debate." Bobby groused, staring from the doctor to his partner. "He's been takin' his vitamins faithfully, Claire, an' pizza has cheese for calcium, and meat for protein, and veggies for... whatever's so good about veggies, so let him be for one night, can't ya?"  
  
  
"Bobby. I thought we agreed you'd back me up on whatever decision I make concerning Darien and the child...."  
  
"I did say that, an' I have backed you up; a hundred an' ten percent in fact. I just don't see the good of buttin' heads every dinnertime, when he's just gonna end up not eatin at all. You know that's how it's gonna happen, Claire. If it means he gets food into him, let the Tofu go."  
  
After a few minutes of stubbornness on Claire's part, she finally gave in.  
  
"Fine. Extra cheese, vegetarian... and I'll let it go. Only for tonight! I'm going to get nutritious food into you somehow, Darien Fawkes, if I have to tie you down and force it down your throat!" Claire shouted at her charge as he manuevered out of his chair and headed gleefully for the phone.  
  
"He's a junk-food junkie, Claire. It's nothin' you're gonna change just 'cause he's pregnant. Comes from livin' on your own too much. You never learn how to cook, you drink coffee and juice for breakfast and depend on take-out for lunch and dinner. I'm pretty much the same way. I cook a little. I mean, I can make an omelet, and toast to go with it, make mac an' cheese, the basics, you know. But I eat out a lot more than I trust myself. I don't even like lookin' at my oven. The thing creeps me out; one big glass eye in the front. I don't like wonderin' if, when I peek in to check on somethin', it's peekin' back at me.... Claire. What's that smile for? Nothin' good ever happens when you smile like that."  
  
"So that's all it will take. All that's required is a few cooking lessons. I can do that."  
  
"Huh? Whoa! Back up, lady! I just said I don't wanna know nothin' more about the oven than I have to. Guys aren't supposed to know how to do more than boil water. It ain't natural."  
  
"Bobby, please! I've caught you watching *Emeril: Live* a hundred times or more!"  
  
"He's a freak, an' so is every other guy on that channel! I watch it for a good laugh...."  
  
"Nice try, Mister Hobbes, but I've made up my mind. If the only way you two will eat healthy is to learn how to cook healthy, that's exactly what will happen. I'll set it up with the Official tomorrow. You and Darien and I aren't leaving that kitchen until I'm satisfied you won't be raising your little girl to think that foam take-away cartons are an acceptable substitute for plates, or that all utensils are plastic! Even if it takes all week, the two of you will know how to do a great deal more than boil water before I'm through!"  
  
  
As Darien approached the table again, Claire's smile and sudden joyful mood unnerved him as well.  
  
"Uh-oh. What's goin' through her twisted little mind now...."  
  
"See? See where your gripin' gets us, Fawkes? She's determined to chain us in the kitchen until we learn how to cook."  
  
"Cook? With three hundred restaraunts in a two block area, why would anybody cook?"  
  
"Because I won't be responsible for this child growing up thinking that the four basic food groups are Spaghetti Marinara, Moo-Goo-Guy-Pan, Pizza and Fried Chicken, that's why!" Claire proclaimed emphatically. "Cooking is an essential skill for potential parents, and if it kills all three of us, you boys are going to learn it!" she declared, before turning back to her own meal.  
  
The two men merely looked at each other, rolled their eyes in disgust and desperation, and strolled off to the living room together to wait for the delivery of their dinner.  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
MONDAY  
  
"Just relax. I've done blood draws on you a hundred times or more. You should be inured to it by now."  
  
"Never. Tell me again what I'm suffering through this for?"  
  
"The test is a triple screen for birth defects and a measure of your estrogen level."  
  
"Birth defects? What birth defects?! You said she was fine..."  
  
"I said she *seems* fine. I don't want to try an amniocentesis unless I have to so this is the best option I have. Now.... stop wiggling!"  
  
"You also said the QS was stable inside my body. Why are you so worried about the amnio?"  
  
"It is stable. I just don't want to take the risk of puncturing it if it isn't necessary. Hold still."  
  
Grimacing, Darien turned his gaze away from the sight of his own blood flowing into the small cylinder, something he swore he'd never become comfortable with, and focused on another subject.  
  
"I'm not goin' anywhere near that kitchen today. I hope you know that. Teach Bobby how to cook. I'm out of it."  
  
"I see our mood swing of choice for today is stubbornness. I really need to get you one of those rings from the seventies so I'll have some advanced warning when a sudden shift is about to occur."  
  
"Ha, ha. I'm not doing it. I have no desire whatsoever to learn how to operate anything in a kitchen exept the fridge, the bottle opener, and the water tap."  
  
"Oh, really." Claire mused as she finished the procedure and bandaged her charge's arm. "So you're surrendering for all time the opportunity to hold your little girl in your arms and feed her, or sit in front of her high-chair and spoon cereal into her mouth, knowing there's an even chance more will end up in your hair and on her bib than inside her. You're willing to give up one of the very few chances a parent ever gets to be able to give their child exactly what they ask for, at the moment they want it. I don't understand that at all."  
  
"You sound like you're talking from experience."  
  
"More than I care to think about, actually. I'm the second oldest of six, Darien. I had to help feed and care for the four that came after me. I loved almost every minute of it. Even considering the rough spots and the frustrations, I wouldn't have missed those years for anything."  
  
Abruptly, Darien's expression fell and he swung his legs off the chair and sat up, ending up facing away from Claire.  
  
"Wow. Man, there's so much I haven't even thought about, so much I haven't dealt with yet. I thought I was doin' alright with the idea of havin' a kid, but...."  
  
Gently rubbing his shoulder, Claire tried to soothe and reassure him as best she could.  
  
"You are, sweetheart, you are. You can't expect to handle this the way you do everything else; head on, full speed and damn the pedestrians and small animals. It will take time. Things you haven't considered will continue to pop into your head long after she's grown and out in the world. That's what being a parent is about, for the most part; worrying, caring and loving her the very best way you know how. All the rest.... is what it is."  
  
"I want it to be perfect for her, Claire. It has to be..."  
  
"None of us can give what we don't possess. Don't set yourself up for failure, Darien. All this baby will ever want or need is the true, simple Darien Fawkes. She deserves the best of you, not the false front you think everyone else expects you to present."  
  
  
"But.... that's all I've ever been. How can I be someone for my daughter.... that I never was for myself? Bein' a thief, it filled me, made up everything I was. If I'd never been that...."  
  
His sentence trailing off, Darien shook his head slightly and frowned at the floor. "Forget that train of thought. I hate playing would've could've, should've. I always stunk at that game."  
  
"What say we forget games altogether, and get serious? Despite every argument you can make, I believe I know you, Darien. You have the soul and intellect of a philospher, the mind of a born teacher, more courage than you'll ever admit to, and the strongest, most passionate and loving heart I've ever known, but it's all of it together that makes you who and what you are. It's the whole package that I adore. I will forever be your admirer, your staunch supporter, and your friend, no matter where your path leads you, or what you discover along the way."  
  
"You forgot the nasty surprise in this Pandora's box of Cracker Jacks, Claire. That's a big part of the package too."  
  
"No. No, it isn't. I didn't mention it because I refuse to acknowledge that minor personality flaw for any longer than it takes to put it back in it's cage. I'm trying anyway. Having Arnaud's body to study is making everything go much faster. Instead of years, the time until we find the answer to Quicksilver madness could be months."  
  
"Yeah, well, I've only got a little over four of those left. I'm guessing the research timeline hasn't been slashed that drastically."  
  
"No. I wish I could tell you diferrently, but...."  
  
"Never mind. Let's go find my fellow student, head back to your place and start on that cooking lesson, hmm? Much happier topic of discussion."  
  
"Alright. I believe he's in his office sulking."  
  
"Let him." Darien replied as they strolled out of the Keep arm in arm. "Half those fudgesicles are mine, and I'm not sharin'."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
LATE MONDAY AFTERNOON  
  
"No. I don't mind, really. You boys go sit in the living room while I clean this up."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
TUESDAY  
"It is my kitchen. You're here to learn how to cook, not how to clean. Go order sandwiches for dinner, would you? Me? Vegetarian with italian dressing, and not from that disgusting place, either. I don't care if it saved all our lives that one time, the whole building is one giant health code violation."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
WEDNESDAY  
  
"Alright, stop it, right this minute! This time you're doing it deliberately! Darien, you get a mop and a clean sponge and get the bechamel sauce off my range hood and my floor tiles. Stop right there Robert! Come back in here and clean the salmon mousse off of my refrigerator!"  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
THURSDAY  
  
"There. You tied that very nicely, Bobby. Now just secure the string around the pot handle.... that's right. Drop the cheesecloth into the beef stock. The lid goes on, and we wait."  
  
"You've gotta be kiddin'. That's all there is to homemade soup? Throw stuff in a pot, toss in a little bag of herbs and set a timer."  
  
"Not quite all. You didn't have to make the beef stock, which can take a couple of days to do properly. Other than what I told you about knowing the cooking times on your vegetables so none of them end up under or overcooked..... it is indeed that simple." Claire replied, swiping at the beads of perspiration on her forehead with a kitchen towel.  
  
"Hey. I'm sorry about earlier. I know we didn't make things easy on you this week." Darien told her, chuckling softly.  
  
"You already apologized, and I accepted gracefully. Besides, the room needed a good scrub-down before you two juvenile delinquents got your hands on my stand mixer. I'm just glad you boys settled in and I wasn't forced to make good on my threat."  
  
"That? I knew you wouldn't cut off my fudgesicle supply."  
  
"If separating you from chocolate was the only way to get your attention, I absolutely would have."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Bobby teased. "You could teach a toasted marshmallow somethin' about bein' a softy. So. What's next?"  
  
"Dumplings to be tossed in at the last minute, and salad."  
  
"Salad? Please. Even *I* can make a salad." Fawkes choked out through his laughter.  
  
"Oh, really. Can you make a salad nicoise? Or a Ceasar salad? How about a classic Waldorf? Hmmm?"  
  
Silence reigned. "I thought not. Alright, let's get started on the dumplings. I'll demonstrate how to create the dough later. For now I've got some already chilling, if you'll grab it out of the refrigerator for me, Bobby....."  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
FRIDAY  
  
"No, no. You made the meal, and without requiring me to hire a maid service to restore my kitchen to good order. The least I can do is set the table. There. Finished. Perfect." Claire murmured as she patted the last napkin precisely into place.  
  
"Potatoes are done. How's the roast comin', Hobbes?"  
  
"Total perfection.... and ready to go. You got that spinach salad finished?"  
  
"Absotively, posolutley." Fawkes announced, spooning the last of his creation into a serving dish and grabbing it and the the salad bowl.  
  
"Good. Let's go get graded on our final, shall we?"  
  
"After you. Mmmm. That pork smells amazing. What did you coat it with?"  
  
"Nothin' much. I just mixed some teriyaki with garlic and a tiny dab a'wasabi mustard, let it marinate all day, then used some reserved marinade to baste the meat tonight."  
  
"Nothin' much? You couldn't have put that sentence together Monday, never mind any of those ingredients." the taller man chuckled.  
  
"This from the love child of Dave Thomas and Ronald McDonald? Gimme a break..."  
  
"Boys, please. I need a bit of silence to admire this fantastic looking meal. You really have done a marathon run in the past five days. Congratulations. It all looks wonderful."  
  
"Don't be givin' out the praise until you actually get it in your mouth." Bobby warned her. "We've come a long way, yeah, but neither of us is exactly ready to challenge *The Naked Chef* or anything."  
  
"I knew it!" Claire crowed exultantly. "I knew you watched that channel for more than a good laugh! Caught you!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. You really wanna talk about the workout your VCR gets from twelve-thirty to four Monday through Friday on a certain network...."  
  
"Robert! You swore that was our secret...."  
  
"You keep mine, I'll keep yours."  
  
"Guys. Can we eat? Everything's getting cold."  
  
"Of course. Let's all sit down." Claire encouraged.  
  
Once all three had filled their plates, Bobby, instead of eating right away, chose to watch Claire, anxious to know whether he'd succeeded. The rapturous expression that followed her first bite of the roast reassured him. "Bobby! This is marvelous! The flavors are incredible. Come a long way indeed! Well done. I'm very proud of both of you. Any child would be blessed to have you two for parents."  
  
Blushing furiously, both men dived into their own food, faces to their plates in order to hide the obvious signs of their embarassment, but both tucked her praise away in a corner of their hearts to strengthen them for the fast approaching day when they would both need all the help they could get.  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC....... 


	7. Week 19: End Fifth Month

Week 19/End of Fifth Month WARNING: PG-13 for one or two mildly bad words in this piece.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"I know you're uncomfortable, sweetheart, but it will all be worth it, I promise you that. You're almost halfway there."  
  
"Uncomfortable? If you even had a clue.... I slept, maybe, two hours last night 'cause of the leg cramps, my back is killing me....."  
  
"Darien. I warned you this was coming. I did tell you to expect some discomfort, didn't I? I did not, however, give you license to whine incessantly."  
  
"Whine? Who's whining? I don't whine!'  
  
"You most certainly do. I'm tempted to nickname you mosquito. Now, quiet down and try to rest. Bobby should be here any minute to retrieve both of us for the morning briefing."  
  
"Ugh. That's the last thing I feel like dealing with today."  
  
"Understandable. You are following my suggestions when you go out on assignment aren't you?"  
  
"As much as it's possible. Bobby does the running, I rest whenever I can, I drink plenty of water, try to keep my temper in check, yadda, yadda, yadda."  
  
"Is that the same as blah, blah, blah?"  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"Then eliminate it from your vocabulary as of now. I don't tell you anything about the pregnancy unless it's important to your health and safety as well as that of your child. The one thing you ignore or brush off could be the one that saves you both."  
  
"Spare me the rhetoric, Claire. I'm not in the mood."  
  
Just as the fight was really starting to warm up, Bobby entered the keep and stepped in.  
  
"Go to your corners you two. Man, can't you guys agree on anything lately?"  
  
"I agree that when she's wound up, she can really be a smothering, stiff-necked shrew...."  
  
"And you can be an irritatin', snot-nosed punk who don't appreciate *or* deserve his friends or the miracle that was dropped in his lap." Bobby countered. "If I were you, I'd shut my mouth an' turn on my brain! That attitude needs a little adjustin', Fawkes, an' it better be fast. Keepie and the fat man both have the cojonés to make this pregnancy a memory, so get your head out of your ass and get grateful, before we both have one more person to mourn."  
  
"Hobbes..... I thought.... you said you wanted this baby as much as I do...."  
  
"I thought you wanted her *period*, but right now, you ain't actin' like it. This ain't about you, you, you anymore. It's about her. It's about our child. Stick a pin in your ego, wouldja? Briefing in five minutes." Bobby declared, before stomping out of the keep.  
  
Stunned, more by the realization of how his ill-considered words must have hurt Claire, than by Bobby's statements, Darien closed his eyes for a moment, then turned them up to his doctor.  
  
"Claire. That was possibly the stupidest thing I've ever said. You can't know how sorry I am. No excuses, just me and my flapping gums which are, apparently, unconnected to my brain. I really am so sorry...."  
  
"It's alright, Darien. I understand."  
  
"No, it isn't alright. All I've thinkin' about is how this affects me, why this happened to me. Hobbes is right. I need to look at somethin' else besides my own feet. I know you're doin' your best to help, an' I know it can't be easy for you. I'll do better."  
  
"This isn't exactly a trip to the amusement park for you either, Darien. You have hormones surging through your system that were never meant to be there, and a life growing inside you that you weren't physically or emotionally ready for. Anyone would go a little bonkers. Occasional outbursts are to be expected."  
  
"I'd never deliberately hurt you, you know that right? I need you more than ever right now. I could never get through this without you. Sometimes..... my mouth has a mind of its own."  
  
"I do know that. I said I wouldn't desert you; even in the face of an edict from that arrogant, dictatorial bully we're about go spend a number of interminable minutes with."  
  
"Big words for such a little girl. He musta royally pissed you off."  
  
"As a matter of fact, yes, he did. Let's go get this over with, shall we?"  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"That had to be the worst briefing ever. Seriously. Has he ever been more pompous? Someone give me an opinion." Darien groused as the trio left the Official's office.  
  
"Somethin's gotta be goin' on." Bobby agreed. "When Eberts looks that smug, the you know what is about to hit the spinning metal blades, my friends, and we're the ones in the line of fire."  
  
"I did sense something a bit off about those two. The Official looked almost.... happy. A happy Official is never a good thing for us." Claire concurred distractedly, caught up in re-reading a page of her pregnacy diary.  
  
"Damn right. I say we need to find out what they're up to, before we all get covered in.... smelly brown unpleasantness." Bobby added. "You've been so uncomfortable lately, Fawkes; the muscle cramps an' all that? Maybe it's time you take a break from the field work for a while. Do some desk duty here in the office."  
  
"Right." Darien replied, a bright smile of his own suddenly appearing as he caught his partner's drift. "I really could use a little down time. I should stay here.... in the office.... play a little hide an' seek with the giggle twins an' see if I can find out what's makin' 'em giggle. Claire? You're the medical expert here. What do you think?"  
  
"Oh absolutely. A capital idea. A week or so of light duty would be just the thing about now. You are heading into the more difficult stage of your pregnancy after all. I'll make it an order, in fact."  
  
Chuckling breathily, Claire fought the urge to jump up and down with the excitement. "Can I go tell him? Please? I so enjoy taking potshots at that horse's ass when he can't do anything to retaliate."  
  
"Go ahead, Keepie." Hobbes told her. "We all gotta get our jollies where we can."  
  
"Thanks ever so. I should think the rest of this afternoon off for the both of you is also a given, considering what your latest assignment could involve. As a matter of fact, just go ahead and take the time. He'll say yes, whether he really wants to or not."  
  
"You've got that scary gleam in your eyes, Claire. Let's take her advice an' make our escape, huh partner?"  
  
"Yeah, right." Darien concurred, grinning. "The last time we saw that look we ended up slaving over a hot stove. I don't dare ask what she's got in mind for the Fish."  
  
"Me either."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"This was a cool idea, Fawkes. I haven't been to the San Diego Zoo in years. With assignments and personal stuff takin' up all my time, I kinda' forgot it was even here. Man, there's so much new since I saw it last. That reptile exhibit was great."  
  
In response, Hobbes' partner simply produced a soft grunt and continued smiling at the pavement in front of him as they walked. "Fawkes? Darien. You in there or what, buddy?"  
  
"Yeah. Sorry. I was just... makin' pictures in my head; thinkin' of how I want it to be."  
  
"What kinda pictures?"  
  
"You an' me with Bobbi in a stroller, cruisin' around here again on her first birthday. I love animals, ya know? I think about that.... a lot. Will she like what I like? Will she get my phobias? Will she have my eyes.... or yours? I want her to have yours."  
  
"Long as she gets your hair gene, she'll be solid."  
  
"Good grief. Was that Bobby Hobbes?" Fawkes shot back, choking with laughter. "It couldn't be. Bobby Hobbes does *not* joke about his receding hairline..."  
  
"Hey, hey. I've told ya before, my forehead is.... overacheivin', just like the rest of me."  
  
"Riiiiight."  
  
"I know what you've really been wonderin', partner. I did some readin', an' she has a real good chance of not endin' up with the anomaly. It all depends on whether the gene that Arnaud messed with is recessive or not. If it is.... the odds of her havin' to live off the counteragent are, like, practically non-existent."  
  
"And the worst case scenario is?"  
  
"If the gene came from both of us, it'd be real bad news. Seein' as it's only you... even if it isn't recessive, Bobbi still has a shot to be okay. We should ask Claire about the details and stuff. I didn't really understand most'a what those books an' articles were tryin' to say."  
  
"You got the important part out. That's what counts. See? I knew that mega-brain of yours would kick in an' work things out when we needed it to."  
  
"I keep tellin' you Fawkes, I'm not book smart. I never was. I read the words that weren't fifteen miles long, I figured out what they meant. I can work the streets. That's what I know. Books.... they either bore me, or make me wish I never learned to read in the first place."  
  
"Liar."  
  
The word, softly spoken though it had been, stopped Bobby Hobbes in his tracks.  
  
"What did you just call me?"  
  
"What you are. I know damn well you read, Bobby. I've seen you do it a hundred times. Why do you wanna lie to me in front of the kid; especially now that you know she understands at least some of what happens out here? Why do you let her hear you put yourself down?"  
  
"Fawkes..."  
  
"No. Take me home. Now, Hobbes."  
  
"Forget it. I ain't seen the Great Apes exhibit yet. If you're gonna have another hissy fit, you can sit on the bench over there and do it. I wanna see the monkeys."  
  
"Fine. Go ahead and go. It'll be a nice family reunion."  
  
Glancing around at the people passing them in both directions, Bobby began to worry about exposure and dragged his partner off to the side of the path and into a more secluded area.  
  
"Okay, now you're *tryin* to start somethin, but I made a promise to the kid, so don't look at me to keep it goin'..."  
  
"Me? Me try to start a fight? You're the one talkin' about runnin' off and abandoning me on a bench while you go visit the Gorillas!"  
  
"Abandon you? Who said anything about abandonment?! You were gettin' huffy, so I was only doin' what I promised myself an' the kid I'd do; walk away and avoid a knock-down drag-out."  
  
"Huffy? Huffy?! I was not huffy! You were lying and I was understandably upset!"  
  
Sensing a full scale crying jag on the horizon, or worse an anger session that would push Darien's blood pressure toward dangerous numbers, Bobby deliberately dropped his sunglasses to the pavement to give himself an excuse to crouch down at his partner's waist level.  
  
"Bobbi. You awake in there? You must be. Between his mood swings an' my temper.... Look, I'm tryin' to stay calm. You gotta see that. Your other parent can be impossible. You wanna go see the monkeys, right? I know you do. Just this once, side with your old dad, hmmm? If you want this to not end up in a fight, tell him you wanna go see the monkeys."  
  
After a moment or two of intense inward concentration, Darien burst out laughing, as Bobby had been hoping he would. "What? What'd she say?"  
  
"I got a shit-eating grin, a wagging finger and a picture of the giraffes."  
  
"Thanks, kid." Hobbes whispered as he rose back to his full height. "Well? She wants giraffes, the African exhibit it is. *Then* we go see the monkeys." He replied, his tone more than mildly self-satisfied as he turned away to rejoin the crowds moving along the main streets of the animal park.  
  
"Hobbes. That was totally unfair. You knew she'd make her own choice and stick her tongue out at both of us to boot. Usin' Bobbi to pull me out of a bad mood is cheatin' in the worst way."  
  
"I know, but it worked, an' I kept my promise. You comin'? The giraffes were her pick, so it's not like you have a choice, but..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I get chocolate ice cream before we go home!"  
  
"You an' the chocolate. This little obsession better taper off once Bobbi finds her way into this world, that's all I gotta say."  
  
"Maybe it will, maybe it won't. You ever think that I might *want* to give birth to another chocoholic, just to have someone to share my New York Super Fudge Chunk with?"  
  
"Ah-ah-ah. You swore we'd agree to disagree on that subject, Fawkes. My passion is my own business."  
  
"But you won't even try...."  
  
"I'm loyal to four things in this world, partner: You, Bobbi, Claire an' Cherry Garcia. Leave it there, okay...."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
THE FOLLOWING DAY  
  
"I still don't think this is right. I mean, if she loved the guy as much as it seems, why can't we leave her alone? She must be grieving."  
  
"She can mourn Arnaud after she gives up his research notes and all his computer files. Right now Elizabeth Rendell has something we need. She can play the weepin' widow after we get what we...."  
  
As Bobby's lips formed around the final words of his sentence, his head suddenly snapped in Darien's direction. His eyes first went wide, then rolled up in his head as he collapsed unconscious in his partner's lap.  
  
"Bobby! What the.."  
  
Fawkes pulled his eyes from his injured partner only long enough to Quicksilver them, as he could hear footsteps racing away from the van, but could see noone. When his altered vision revealed a female form disappearing around a corner, some type of large case held in one hand, he debated what to do for several seconds, then realized getting help for Bobby was far more important.  
  
"Keepie? It's Fawkes. Nah, she took off after she cracked Hobbes in the head with somethin' heavy an' solid. Yeah, well I would have gone after her, but 1. Bobby needs a doctor... again, an' 2. me chasin' somebody noone else can see would look a little weird... as usual. That's right. Somehow he passed it on to her, created a new gland for her, I don't know an' I don't wanna know. It looks serious. She put a big dent in his face an' he's out cold! You really need more than that? Well, seeing as I can't drive, you can get out here and bring a chauffer!"  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^  
  
TBC..... Shippiness increases next chapter. D/B addicts and lovesickness junkies.... bring tissues! 


	8. Week 19: Continued

Week 19 cont.-  
  
"Hey, don't wrap the bandage so tight!"  
  
"I can wrap it around your mouth if you prefer." Claire retorted. "I know I would."  
  
"Excuse me? Injured party here. Be nice."  
  
"It might be easier if I could spend less time covering you in gauze. I really think you're a natural magnet for getting bashed."  
  
"Gotta balance it out, don't I? Fawkes is the trouble magnet, I'm the one who gets banged up gettin' him out of it."  
  
"Agreed. You two make a perfect pair."  
  
"Right. Hey, you done yet?"  
  
"Just about. One more piece of tape.... there. Finished. You can have him now, Darien. Try to keep him away from open car windows and flamethrowers, if at all possible?"  
  
"Cute, Keepie. Like you haven't had your share of snags and hitches."  
  
"Of course I have, but they all started with you two."  
  
"Hobbes." Darien interjected. "We need to get goin' if you're up to it. Eberts got another line on the disappearing doc."  
  
Bobby turned to Claire for confirmation that he was greenlighted to continue working.  
  
"Not for a day or two. You have a concussion which grounds you at home for the next forty-eight hours."  
  
"Claire! Don't say that! It means I'll have to work with that she- hyena...."  
  
"Trust me," Alex Monroe's voice drifted over Darien's shoulder, "the she-hyena's not happy about it either. Feel better, Hobbes. Are you coming or not, Agent Fawkes?"  
  
"Claire...."  
  
"There's nothing I can do. Bobby needs to rest, not be running around chasing Liz Rendell all over creation. Good luck is the best I can offer."  
  
"Man...."  
  
"Agent Fawkes."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I'm comin'. You know the rules, right? Don't make me run, don't drink all the water and don't piss me off. That's the big one."  
  
"The Official told me everything. Let's go. We need to find this woman before she can get to the disks and papers and destroy everything."  
  
"She won't."  
  
"And why do you think that?"  
  
" 'Cause last I saw it looked like she had 'em with her. Not to mention the fact that whatever Arnie did to her before he went bonkers, those files are the only lifeline she has. She destroys them, she destroys herself."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"You were talking a mile a minute back at the office, Agent Fawkes. Why so quiet all of a sudden?"  
  
"I have a lot more to think about lately. I'm thinking."  
  
"Funny, I don't see any smoke or hear any gears being stripped."  
  
"Shut up, Alex and put your eyes back where they belong."  
  
"Touchy, touchy. Sorry. Thought I could cheer you up, but I should have known. Sorry the chemotherapy's been so rough on you. I'll leave you to your thinking."  
  
To Alex's great surprise, this comment did what her joking couldn't; it caused Darien to begin laughing uproariously. "What? What did I say? Man, laughing about having the big C.... you are way stronger than I gave you credit for."  
  
"Ch.... chemo?! Let me guess.... the fat-man?"  
  
"Of course. Are you saying..."  
  
"He lied, Alex. He looked straight in your face and lied. If you want the whys and wherefores you'll have to ask him. On second thought... maybe I do know."  
  
"If you don't have cancer then why all the extra sessions with the keeper and why is Hobbes suddenly hovering around you like a mother with a chronically sick kid?'  
  
"Mother is close.... but it's not quite right. The whole story is long and involved, so I'll skip it. The bottom line is, somethin' off the wall an' way beyond the bounds of science an' good judgment an' universal rules and regs happened with me an' Bobby.... an' I ended up pregnant somehow. Not that I'd willingly give the Fish credit for havin' any compassion, but it's possible he knew how much this.... the pregnancy would upset you... an' he twisted the truth so you wouldn't be hurt."  
  
For several minutes, Alex was silent and still, all her color washed away instantly with Darien's announcement. When she finally recovered enough composure to speak, it was only in single words and short, quick sentences, as if her vocal cords were working more efficiently than her brain.  
  
"Pregnant.... that would mean you two...."  
  
"Yeah. That's what it looks like, anyway. We were both so thoroughly bombed we can't be really sure what happened, but...."  
  
"How far.... I mean..."  
  
"Heading into my sixth month."  
  
"Sixth... " Alex echoed, finally regaining enough of her mental balance to manage a small tight smile. "Four months left. You must be getting pretty uncomfortable about now."  
  
"You're probably the only one who'd have any idea *how* uncomfortable." Darien replied, risking a grin as well. "The leg cramps are the worst."  
  
"Up your calcium intake. That should help a lot."  
  
"Yeah? Do me a favor; don't mention this conversation to Claire, okay..... Time out on the mommy and me class. There she is."  
  
"I don't see.... of course you don't, Alex, you idiot. Where?"  
  
"Side door. It just did a 'Harvey'."  
  
"Harvey? Who the hell is Harvey and what does he have to do with this case?"  
  
"Classic Movies 101 can wait." Fawkes told her, Quicksilvering his eyes and maneuvering his way out of the van. "She's got the same case I saw her with before. I'll distract her, you take her down?"  
  
"Sounds like a plan."  
  
"Yeah, well let's see if it works like one."  
  
"Do I need to know precisely *how* you plan to distract her?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh good. I'll have plausible deniability later when you're bleeding and unconscious."  
  
"Can we just do this? Get the infrared specs on."  
  
"Got 'em."  
  
"Okay. When you see her react, move and move fast."  
  
"Yes sir, chief."  
  
"With all I've gone through I damn well should be by now...." Darien mumbled as he felt the QS claim his body. Just recently he had been doing far less invisibilty work than normal, as maintaining the Quicksilver stressed body and mind and depleted his already low energy levels at a frightening speed.  
  
Slipping silently up behind Elizabeth Rendell, Darien stayed as close as he dared, waiting until she paused before crossing at a corner. Hating himself for having to hurt any woman this way, he nevertheless followed through on his hastily thought up plan.  
  
Wrapping one hand around the wrist on the side where she carried the large case, Fawkes twisted swiftly and with all his strength, wincing when heard the delicate bones snapping like twigs and tendons grind against one another in protest. Doctor Rendell screamed. The case drooped from her hand, but despite the pain, she would not release it totally, nor did she go down to her knees, though Darien saw them buckle slightly. She made to move forward, but Alex was there to block her.  
  
"Elizabeth. Stop. Please. It's okay. If you'll just stop you won't get hurt anymore." Fawkes tried to reassure her. "Whatever that.... whatever Arnaud did, we can help. Come with us and let us try an' help you...."  
  
"Help?!? You imbecile! Get out of my way before I do to you what I did to that  
  
sub-neanderthal you call a partner!"  
  
"Can't do that, lady. Look, you can't have been this way too long, right? It's not too late. Whatever he forced you to let him do, the docs at the Agency can probably  
  
reverse it....."  
  
"Force? My husband didn't force me into anything! I did this to be with him! I allowed him to change me so he wouldn't be alone. Now I'm the one alone..... because of you. You and that damn agency.... you killed him. You hounded him and pursued him and made his life a perpetual nightmare! If it hadn't been for your moronic partner interrupting the procedure, Arnaud would have gotten it right.... instead he was stuck like that.... isloated from the world.... First his body began to desert him.... then his mind.... you destroyed one of the most brilliant men in the world!"  
  
"Nightmare? You have got to be kidding. The only thing Arnie knew about nightmares is how to give one! If his life was really that bad, then he an' I are about even!"  
  
"You were never supposed to be a part of the project in the first place! The gland should have been his! He could have changed the world if your lying brother had lived up to his promises..."  
  
"You... don't get to talk about my brother lady. Not unless you want another broken wrist and some bruises to go with it."  
  
"I can damn well do anything I want to, say anything I want to..... hell I can be whatever I want to now.... I'm free to make you as miserable as you made my husband."  
  
"Sure you are, until you end up in a back alley somewhere singin' 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' an' suckin' your thumb 'till you croak."  
  
"Sorry. Not going to happen." Rendell said smugly as she shed the Quicksilver concealing her. "You see, this time..... he had all the hours he needed to do it perfectly."  
  
A millisecond of surprised inertia from her adversaries was all the doctor needed. The case clattered to the ground and before Darien could move to stop her, Elizabeth Rendell had slipped behind Alex, wrapped her unijured arm tightly around the other's shoulders and placed a gleaming blade to the female agent's throat.  
  
For a long tense moment, Darien studied the knife, trying desperately to see the best way to disarm Rendell. His heart sank, even as his mind insisted he'd lost touch with reality himself, when he realized that the knife was not held in the doctor's hand, it *was* her hand. She saw the recognition in his eyes and chuckled.  
  
"Just as I said; I can be anything.... literally! I told you he was brilliant, but you didn't believe.... you couldn't understand a man like Arnaud.... noone did but me. What he gifted me with is more than a Quicksilver gland..... much more. First.... I'll kill this bitch.... then I'll hunt down that pseudo-human partner of yours.... then I'll come for you, but that won't be for a long, long time. You'll have years and years to think about what you did.... and to regret it."  
  
Suddenly, the solution to the standoff struck Darien like a shot of counteragent. He had to make a promise. Even if it was one he never intended to keep, even if it felt like dying just to say the words, to save Alex's life he had to make a promise to Elizabeth Rendell. He had to make her believe him. Raising his eyes he locked his gaze with the doctor's and spoke the hardest words he'd ever had to say  
  
"Then you'll never know, will you?"  
  
"Nice try, agent. She still dies. Tricks won't save any of you."  
  
"He talked to me. After we picked him up in the desert.... he talked to me for almost an hour. Then he died. They were his last words on earth, Elizabeth and I'm the only one who heard them. If you release Agent Monroe and you surrender without a fight..... I'll tell you everything. I haven't even told my partner what Arnaud said, but I'm willing to give it up to you. Just let her go...."  
  
"He wouldn't have bothered to spit in your face, Fawkes!"  
  
"He knew was dying. He had things to get off his conscience... things he felt like he had to say. If you wanna hear it, you know what to do."  
  
"It isn't true.... he would never speak his last words to someone he hated so much.... never! It isn't true! He had nothing to say to you.... if he had anything important to say he would have said it to me....."  
  
"Yeah, well he didn't kill your brother, did he? He never kidnapped and tortured you did he? Trust me, he had to lot to say."  
  
"No....."  
  
"I promise to tell you everything I remember. Just you an' me, nobody else to hear his last thoughts. You want it?"  
  
Slowly, so slowly that Darien thought for a moment that it might not happen, Elizabeth Rendell's hand reformed and reshaped itself until it was normal once again and it's owner dropped to her knees. Alex pulled away roughly, turning and ripping her cuffs off her belt at the same time. Darien had to move quickly to stop his temporary partner before anymore damage was done to the fugitive's injured hand.  
  
"Alex. No metal cuffs. I did a number on one of her wrists, remember? I'll get her, you bring the case. You do have plastic restraints in the car?"  
  
"Yeah. In the pocket of the front passenger door."  
  
"I thought you would."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Guess." Fawkes replied with a wicked grin as he gently lifted the doctor to her feet and guided her to the car.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
EARLY THE FOLLOWING MORNING  
  
(I was a white hat in the beginning.... never intended to.... Kevin and his unnassailable logic.....I barely remember holding the.... didn't know.... didn't want to remember.... asking their forgiveness.... I am so sorry.... for my own souls sake as much as for yours....)  
  
"Fawkes. Darien, wake up. You're havin' a nightmare, partner. Time to wake up."  
  
"No! Get it away from me.... shut up, shut up..."  
  
"Fawkes! C'mon, buddy. Pullout of this, wouldja?"  
  
Abruptly, Darien's eyes snapped open and, still unaware, he struck out at whatever had been haunting his sleep. "Hey, watch it! The noggin's still healin' ya know!"  
  
"Bobby? Did I...."  
  
"No way, kid. Even half asleep I can duck. You okay now?"  
  
"Yeah. I'll be okay. Thanks for the save."  
  
"Right. An' I believe every word. Tell me about the dream." Bobby insisted, settling onto the edge of the bed.  
  
"Really, you can go back to bed, Hobbes. I'll probably go right back to sleep."  
  
"You? Like that's ever gonna happen. Tell me."  
  
"I don't feel like it, okay? Don't remember much anyway.... I said you can go an' I meant it. No use both of us bein' wrecks tomorrow."  
  
Frustrated, Bobby watched Darien settle back to his damp pillow, eyes closed but body thrumming with tension so strongly that the older man could almost see the muscles jumping under the exposed skin of his partner's arm. Without warning, a song began to play faintly in Hobbes mind. After a minute or two he recognized it as one his mother would hum to him on nights like this one. As the song grew clearer, the attendant memory came with it, and he smiled softly. The song, he recalled now, was only part of his mother's routine for soothing him back to sleep after a particularly intense nightmare. The other part had been the true magic; magic utterly forgotten until the moment when it was needed.  
  
Standing, Bobby moved to perch on the other side of the bed so he was facing Darien, who had curled up on his side. Slowly, gently, Hobbes reached out and stroked his left index finger lightly across the length of his partner's forehead, brushing his always unruly hair out of the way as he went. Abruptly, Fawkes head lifted from the pillow and the easy hand was knocked aside.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Darien asked him, no real anger in the words, merely confusion and irritation  
  
"Do you really wanna go back to sleep? If you think the dream'll come back, we can sit up an' talk a while."  
  
"I don't know.... I hope it won't. Yeah, I need to go back to sleep. Answer the question, Hobbes. What were trying to do?"  
  
"Trust me?"  
  
"If you have to ask...."  
  
"Fawkes...."  
  
"Yeah, I trust you. With my life, man. You know that."  
  
"Then put your head back down, close your eyes an' your mouth for a while an' I swear you'll be asleep in no time."  
  
His gaze clearly showing his skepticism, Darien did as Bobby had asked.  
  
Hobbes began the routine again, sweeping one finger so lightly over the other man's forehead that it was barely a touch at all. "This is somethin' my mom used to do for me when a bad dream really shook me up. It's been... twenty, twenty-five years maybe since I thought of it. Lookin' at you layin here about to jump outta your skin.... it just came back to me."  
  
Now the almost touch moved down the bridge of Darien's nose, over and over in the same direction, with the same slowness and ease. "It got so she could drop me back into dreamland in under two minutes. I remember lovin' the way it felt; warm, happy, safe. Nothin' could hurt me... or scare me when she was there."  
  
Now across the cheek to the tip of the ear, careful not to tickle the sensitive ear lobe and destroy all the work he'd done. As he watched, Darien's breathing calmed and his whole body seemed to be grudgingly releasing the anxiety it had been hoarding so jealously only a short time ago. "Atta-boy. That's the way. No more bad dreams tonight, kid. You're safe now..." Bobby assured him as he started a second run-through of the routine.  
  
"Hobbes....." Darien slurred quietly, "wow.... this is.... wow..."  
  
"Shhh. Sleep, buddy. Sleep. I'm right here. I won't leave you..... sleep."  
  
By the time Bobby finished the touches for the second time, his partner was nearly out like a light. A final upward flick of an eyelid in protest, a deep sigh, and Darien succumbed.  
  
Hobbes rose from the bed as slowly as he could manage, so as not to break the fragile spell he'd cast, and dropped into the armchair beside the bed. Settling his chin on his chest and his linked hands across his abdomen, he endeavored to slip back into sleep himself, but something continued to nibble at the back of his mind. Fawkes was deeply asleep so the routine had obviously worked, but something was missing. When he remembered what it was, Hobbes face took on a decidedly sad and unsure cast. Despite his misgivings, he rose once again, approached the bed and dropped a soft kiss on Darien's forehead before returning to his armchair for the remainder of the night.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 


	9. Week 22: Sixth month

Week 22: Sixth month  
  
"Darien, calm down. I swear to you there is no solution to this. You're just going to have to live with...."  
  
"You're lyin'. They will too go away. They damn well *better* go away! Don't be tellin' me there's nothin' you can do, Claire. Make 'em go away!"  
  
"I can't, sweetheart. There are a hundred creams on the market but none of them have ever been proven to work. The spider veins will go away about four to six weeks after you give birth, but...."  
  
"Spider what?!"  
  
"As the baby puts more and more stress on your body, the surface veins in your legs and face can become more prominent. Like I said, it's nothing to be concerned about; those will go away after the baby's born.... but I can't do anything for the stretch marks."  
  
"Claire... I can't live with these for the rest of my life...."  
  
"You have no choice. Stretch marks are a part of pregnancy just like heartburn, emotional cyclones, constipation and hemorrhoids...."  
  
"Claire!"  
  
"Hmm. You're the last person I would have ever thought a prude, Darien. If you aren't experiencing those symptoms yet, you will, so deal with it, darling. I said I wouldn't have this baby for you and that includes the less pleasant aspects of the process." Claire snickered, looking down to make a few notes in her pregnancy diary. As she opened the book, the cover knocked a metal instrument tray onto the floor with a ear- splitting clang. When she straightened from picking it up, Claire found Darien sitting ramrod straight in the admin chair, his eyes the diameter of frisbees. "Darien? What is it? Is something wrong?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, no. It's okay.... I guess. When you dropped the tray.... she...."  
  
"She what?"  
  
"Moved. Jumped, more like it. It was.... she moved, Claire. I felt her move."  
  
"You seem quite shocked. I take it you hadn't felt this before today?"  
  
"Nah. I mean... little tiny flickers, yeah.... like she was tryin' to tickle me..... but nothin' like that.... Claire, that was...."  
  
"Wonderful, amazing, wicked cool? Whatever else it may be, it's a very good sign, Darien. It means her development is just about on track. She'll be doing a lot more of that from here on in, so get used to it. She'll even respond to your voice or Bobby's specifically, but any loud sound that occurs close to you could make her react. You might start to think about doing more out loud talking and singing to her instead of keeping all the communication in pictograms delivered brain to brain the way it is now."  
  
"Sing? No way, no how. You don't wanna hear me sing. I sound like a tone-deaf Siamese cat bein' attacked with a weedwhacker in the middle of a really bad performance of 'La Boheme'."  
  
"Come on, sweetie. It can't be that awful." Claire chuckled, looking at him skeptically.  
  
"Pray you never have to find out."  
  
"Fine. I won't push the singing issue. Is the swelling in your hands and ankles any better?"  
  
"It's about the same. I try to stay off my feet at home and keep 'em elevated like you said."  
  
"I've noticed. Good man. We're about done for today I should think. Let's just check the tattoo before you go."  
  
Obligingly, Darien produced his wrist for inspection. "Very good. Only two segments red. You start your week in the office today, right?"  
  
"Yeah. I have so been looking forward to this. I can sit anytime I want, nap on the couch in Bobby's office whenever I feel really bushed. This week will be heaven."  
  
"Don't try to fool me, Darien Fawkes. I was there when you and Bobby concocted this little scheme to find out what the Official and Eberts have up their sleeves. I know you're planning on doing a lot more in the next five days than lounging around."  
  
"I thought you agreed with us that it has to be done, Claire. Those two are cookin' up somethin', an' I don't like the smell."  
  
"Neither do I. I agree someone has to find out what's going on, and you are the most likely candidate. Just you remember the new rules."  
  
"Never stay Quicksilvered longer than fifteen minutes, try not to go see-through more than twice a day and keep a sharp eye on the tattoo, making sure it doesn't get below three green segments."  
  
"Excellently recited. You can go now. Try not to overdo, alright?" she admonished him gently as he rose and moved toward the door of the Keep.  
  
"Do my best, Keepie. Oh yeah. I had a question to ask. Just a thought Hobbes an' I were kickin' around. If you don't wannna answer right now, I'll understand..."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Well.... ya know, doin' what we do isn't the safest job in the world an' between me buildin' an immunity to the counteragent and the general unpredictabilty of the gland.... We... Bobby an' me.... we wanted somebody we can trust to take her in if the worst case scenario drops on both of us. Somebody who'd hide her from Chrysalis.... or even from Eberts an' the Fish if it comes down to that."  
  
"Darien.... are you seriously.... you can't be asking me...."  
  
"Nothin's for sure, Claire. You told me that. Bobby an' I could live 'till we're a hundred.... or we could both get taken out tomorrow. I have to ask. Will you be the Godmother for our little girl?"  
  
Taken aback, Claire was frozen in place for several seconds, Darien's words echoing in her mind.  
  
{Bobby and Darien gone? Me hiding the baby? No.... it can't come to that. It won't. There's no reason why I shouldn't say yes. Darien's predictions are just supposition. I'll have the answer to QSM long before he or the baby might need it. I must have it. Godmother... me a Godmother. Who would ever have believed....}  
  
Striding to her charge's side, Claire embraced him joyfully but carefully, ever mindful of his expanding belly.  
  
"Of course I accept, Darien. I'm honored you chose me.... honored you trust me that deeply."  
  
"You're all we have, Claire.... we trust you with my health, the baby's health.... we even trust you to fix whatever Bobby breaks next. We trust you with everything."  
  
"Bobby has nothing left to break. I think I've already patched up, splinted or bandaged nearly every single part of his body at least once." Claire joked as she pulled away for the hug. "Thank you, Darien. I swear you won't regret bestowing this gift on me. I would never wish harm to either of you, you know that..... but should something unforeseen happen.....I will protect her with my life."  
  
"I know. I gotta go. Paperwork waits for no man, pregnant or otherwise."  
  
"Of course. Take it easy as much as you can. Don't forget to drink your water. You can't afford to let yourself get really dry. If you feel thirsty..."  
  
".... you're already dehydrated. I know Mom, I know. Sheesh..."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Tell me again, Fawkes."  
  
"You don't have time. Didn't you say an extraction team is waitin' on you somewhere?"  
  
"I got, like, five minutes before Eberts sticks his weasel nose in here again. Tell me."  
  
"Yeah and that'll be the third time. You know what he's like if you make him put out that much effort to shift your ass into drive. Go."  
  
"I know better than I ever wanted to, so hurry up and say it will ya?"  
  
Sighing, Darien repeated the events of the previous half hour.  
  
"Claire said Bobbi can hear noises in the outside world now, if they happen close enough to me. She thinks we should talk to her more. She suggested singin' too, but I said if you want the kid to come out with any musical taste at all, I'll skip the songs."  
  
"So I can...."  
  
"I guess so. You've got a minute and half left. Give it a shot. Just don't be leanin' down over me. That's a stupid T.V. cliché and if Eberts walks in early an' sees us like that you'll get us both in hot water, no matter how innocent it is."  
  
"I thought the hot water was for when you're actually havin' the baby."  
  
"Fine. It's your time to waste on rotten jokes...."  
  
"Okay, okay. Show me."  
  
"Put your hand on my stomach. Here. That's right. Now say somethin' to her. If she hears you'll know it."  
  
"Bobbi. Hey Roberta Claire. It's your old Dad. I can't wait to see you little girl. It won't be long now. You're more than halfway, kiddo. You'll be havin' a birthday soon....."  
  
Darien felt the movement from Bobbi at the same moment Hobbes did, but their different reactions disturbed him. While he was filled with joy and astonishment, Bobby's expression was a strange mixture of fear and turmoil. Slowly, as if forcing himself to remain under control, the older man rose and backed away from his partner.  
  
"Hobbes? You okay? You felt her move, right? You can try again if..."  
  
"No. No... I felt it. It... it was pretty amazing. Look... I'm gonna go before Eberts comes to get me. I mean, he hands out the paychecks. No use gettin' him mad at me." Hobbes stuttered out, plastering a smile onto his face that he knew Darien would immediately see straight through. He knew and still couldn't have made it more sincere if he'd wanted to.  
  
"Hobbes, hold up a minute. What's wrong?" Fawkes insisted, struggling off Bobby's office sofa and chasing his retreating partner, catching him a few steps down the hallway. "Hobbes, wait, damn it!"  
  
"I can't, partner. You said yourself there's a team waitin' on me...."  
  
"Fine." Darien growled low. "As long as you understand somethin'. I don't know exactly what happened in there.... but I know I didn't like it a whole lot an' I for *damn* sure don't understand it. When you get back tonight, we *will* have a discussion. I don't care how tired you are or how late it is... you come to the house an' wake me up. It's way past time you start really talkin' to me.... about the baby, about how you feel...."  
  
"Yeah, good. I'll see you tonight." Hobbes told him, pulling away and escaping.  
  
"No matter how late."  
  
"I got it, Fawkes. I'll see you then, okay? I gotta go..."  
  
Working to control his seething emotions, Darien silently watched his best friend hurry down the hall, turn a corner and vanish from sight. A fast, very light shock touched his face and traveled throughout his body.  
  
"I hear you, baby. I won't lie. I'm really pi.... upset with your daddy, but I have reason this time, so no more of the finger-in-the-socket treatment, okay? Not even a little."  
  
Bobbi sent him an image of Hobbes, folowed by an image of a man's face screwed into an expression of utter terror, followed by a picture of an infant and a question mark. "What? No, honey, Daddy's not scared of you." He soothed, one hand  
  
immediately dropping to rest on his abdomen. "He loves you more than the whole world, Bobbi. No.... I think he scared himself, baby girl. I can't explain it. Your daddy's... I don't know what he is right now, but I'll find out tonight. Count on that."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Is this.... you couldn't mean that this is the number you wanted, sir. This is a rather tasteless joke..."  
  
"When it comes to Fawkes I have no sense of humor anymore. They're only one of the interested parties, Eberts. I won't necessarily be giving them first chance. I haven't heard their offer yet, have I?"  
  
"But, sir.... I know a little about this organization. They're nothing we want to deal with. They have a reputation for being ruthless, unconscionable and utterly amoral. In their hands...."  
  
"Rumors are useless to me. I'm still in the process of checking out all of the bidders to verify their qualifications. In a day or two I'll know more about these organizations than they do themselves. Whoever I hand this child over to..."  
  
"Speaking of unconscionable and amoral..." Eberts murmured under his breath.  
  
"Excuse me? I didn't just hear you mumble what I *think* you mumbled. Did I?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"I didn't think so. Get out of here for a while. Go find the little mother something properly boring to busy himself with."  
  
"Of course, sir." Eberts replied, turning and striding out of the office, closing the door quietly behind him.  
  
In the hall, the man the Official thought he knew so well, the man Charlie Borden considered his stalwart, faithful right hand, leaned against a wall and quickly swiped tears from his eyes, his head already buzzing with ways to thwart his employer's plans.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
Though Darien stayed up past midnight, Bobby did not show up at the house, and Claire finally made her charge go to bed.  
  
He lay in the dark, unable and unwilling to sleep, believing that Bobby had meant his promise, anticipating a presence that never made itself known. When dawn began to send its first rays of soft gray light through his window, he was still awake.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC...... I know, things are beginning to look grim, but every story needs conflict. If everything was Brady Bunch/ Partridge Family schmaltz you wouldn't keep reading would you? 


	10. Week 22 Continued

Week 22 cont.-  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TWO DAYS LATER  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"I don't care what you want anymore, Hobbes. You've been avoidin' me an' I have a right to know why. I just checked with Eberts and there's nothing on your plate all day, so you will sit an' we will talk."  
  
"Fawkes, look...."  
  
"It's about the baby, isn't it? You spooked yourself Monday and you're worried your feelings for her are changing."  
  
"No! Never. This is the only child I might ever have! How can you even think... It's not the baby, Fawkes. It's me. Me an' you actually. When I felt her move.... I'll admit I did get scared, but it wasn't about Bobbi. It was thinkin'..... how she got in there. I don't like thinkin' about that."  
  
"Hey, neither do I, but it happened. It's in the past, over an' done with, right? Nothin's gonna change the stupid mistake we made in the middle of a beer-induced brown-out.... but somethin' beautiful is gonna come out of that mistake."  
  
"You don't get what I'm.... I can't do this. I can't just..."  
  
His expression pure torment, Bobby rose to leave the Keep where Darien had cornered him that morning, determined to force their promised, and long delayed, conversation. Fawkes stopped him forcibly, a strong hand on Bobby's forearm.  
  
"You can't what? Talk to me? Open up to me? The ceiling's not gonna fall in if you tell me what you're feeling, Bobby! Bein' honest and open with each other won't trigger the end of the world, for God's sake!"  
  
Pulling out of Darien's grip, Bobby drew a hitching breath as he walked backwards out the door. If his heart had been at all joyful at that moment, the breath might have sounded like a laugh, but instead it sounded dark and fearful.  
  
"You're wrong, Fawkes. You're so wrong.... you don't even know...."  
  
Darien watched his best friend turn and stride away, his furious, pain- wracked heart encouraging him to go after Hobbes and make him explain himself, even while his brain assured him it would do no good. Caught between emotion and logic, Darien was left with the nearly irresistible urge to go find a store that sold crystal and fine china, walk in Quicksilvered and demolish everything he could get his invisible hands on.  
  
When Bobbi gave him a particularly strong kick, he re-evaluated his plan and decided to find Eberts and take his frustration out on a pile of paperwork.  
  
"Women. You're bossier than Claire is, an' I didn't think that was possible."  
  
This comment resulted in another kick followed by several images of Lucy Lawless as her character Xena efficiently tossing males all over creation. "I get the point. Man. I'm carrying a combo of Gloria Steinem an' a Power- Puff girl.... if you come out with a gland of your own, the world is gonna be in so much trouble...."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Agent Fawkes. I was just coming to find you...."  
  
"I know. Same here. I'm ready for the paperwork. Back up the dump truck."  
  
"Actually.... I wondered if you might need someone to talk to. I've noticed the tension between you and Agent Hobbes this week. I simply wanted to assure myself that.... that you're alright."  
  
"I'm not, but it'll get better. Bobby's gone into emotional lock-down mode is all. Soon as I figure out why, everything'll be back to normal. I just have to find the key to gettin' through to him."  
  
Setting the tall stack of paper in his arms carefully on the desk, Eberts cast a quick glance at Darien then looked at his shoes.  
  
"May I tell you something? About Robert, I mean."  
  
"Absolutely, if you think it'd help."  
  
"It may or it may not. This is more in the realm of a.... confidence boost. Before you became Robert's partner, he never moved *out* of 'emotional lock- down' as you call it. A smile from him was a rarity; he never laughed, barely spoke. His medication schedule was erratic at best. The only time the status-quo ever shifted was when he became angry, at which point everyone within a five mile-radius scattered and dived for cover."  
  
"No way. That sounds nothin' like the Bobby Hobbes I know."  
  
"Of course it doesn't. You made the difference."  
  
"Me? You're jokin'. All I did was annoy the hell out of him."  
  
"Joking? Far from it. If you only knew what he was struggling with.... When you arrived he finally felt someone was on his side of the battle. Knowing you aren't fighting alone can change everything, Darien. *You* changed everything simply by standing up for him.... by standing by him."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"You. He's struggling again, granted.... Perhaps he's letting his fears get the best of him, but he'll never go back to the way he was. Not if you hold your ground. You said you were looking for the key that would let you get through to him? You don't need one. You're already on the inside. You're the only one there as a matter of fact. Just.... give him a little time and patience. He'll be alright. You both will."  
  
Darien stared at Eberts for a long time, amazed that the man he'd been prepared to view as a mortal enemy less than fifty hours before now came to him in friendship, freely offering information Bobby never would have willingly surrendered. Suddenly, a voice spoke up from the dark, dusty corner in his head where he had exiled the part of him that would forever be a thief. Of late it had seen little reason to torment him, so the sound was rough from lack of use but the suspicious tone was the same as always. It put considerable effort into convincing him that Eberts' words were hollow, nothing but a ruse to gain his trust, but Darien chose not to pay it the attention it craved.  
  
Instead he silently moved most of the papers to the floor a small amount at a  
  
time, then divided the remainder into two piles.  
  
"You feel like stickin' around awhile? If you're free that is. I could use some help from an expert." Darien said, waving at the chair beside him.  
  
"Of course. I'd be more than happy to assist."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"You're quite welcome."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"My motivation? Simple, sir. What's going on with Fawkes.... it isn't natural and it isn't right. I mean.... aside from the obvious, a paranoiac and an ex-con raising a child? Please. Those factors alone are enough to motivate me, but throw in the possibility of Darien going QS mad and injuring or killing an innocent baby...."  
  
"Of course. Jealousy and grief over the loss of your own little boy don't enter into the equation in the slightest."  
  
"I'd be lying if I said emotion didn't play a part. You know me, sir. I'm capable of separating feelings from reason and duty and knowing which comes first. Whatever your plans are, I'm offering my support. Unlike the stupidity twins, I know precisely where my loyalties lie and my priorities are in perfect order."  
  
"That's very clear. I accept your offer, Agent Monroe. When you're needed, I'll see you're informed immediately."  
  
"Thank you, sir. I promise you won't regret bringing me on board."  
  
"I hope not. My regrets don't tend to last very long.... if you see my meaning."  
  
"Absolutely, sir." Alex confirmed as she turned and strode out of the Official's office.  
  
{That takes care of that.} she mused as she marched out the front door. {All that's left is waiting until he calls on me. Damn, I hope it's soon. If the boss doesn't do something about that double freak of nature really fast, I may have to launch a preemptive strike and don't think I won't, Charlie. Don't think I won't....}  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
CLAIRE'S HOUSE: LATE THAT NIGHT  
  
"Fawkes! Hey, wake up partner!"  
  
Ripped out of the violent nightmare he'd been entrenched in, Darien bolted upright in bed and struck out wildly at the demons that pursued him from his dreams. The powerful blow might have knocked his best friend to the floor if Bobby, despite several consecutive nights of disturbed sleep, had not still retained reflex and instinct enough to duck. "Damn it, Fawkes, will you wake up before somebody gets hurt; namely you?"  
  
"Huh? Bobby? Not again.... I'm so sorry, man...."  
  
"I know you are, buddy, That's the eighth night, and the eighth apology, in a row. What the hell is goin' on with you, huh?"  
  
"Like I know?' Darien moaned, dropping back heavily onto sweat soaked pillows and sheets then turning onto his side, facing away from the concerned frown of his partner.  
  
"You're still not ready to talk about these freaky dreams?"  
  
"I told you all I can remember.... it's me, Kevin and Arnaud standing in a circle.... that's it. If there are any details they're always gone when I wake up."  
  
"Those details must be somethin' else, 'cause when you come to you're fightin' for your life."  
  
"I don't know, Bobby. I don't wanna know. I'll be okay now. You can go back to bed."  
  
Sighing heavily, Bobby considered trying his mother's technique but decided against it. The strength of Darien's nightmares had reduced its effect to nothing several days before. Instead, as he had every night for the last eight, he dropped into the armchair by the bed.  
  
"Why waste the energy an' the travel time? Neither one of us ever gets back to sleep after one of these sessions. I'll stay here again. If I gotta be awake, I might as well have someone to talk to."  
  
"You don't have to."  
  
"I know."  
  
"This isn't my fault, Bobby. I don't wanna keep doin' this to you every night..."  
  
Hearing the strain born of repressed tears and anguish, Hobbes attempted to soothe Darien the best he could.  
  
"Hey, I get that. I never said you were givin' yourself the screamin' mimi's on purpose."  
  
"But you believe it. Don't you think I can hear how frustrated you are, see how hard it is for you to function during the day? I know it's gotta be killin' you to lose so much sleep on top of goin' through your own stuff... I wanna make the nightmares stop, Bobby. I just don't know how...."  
  
"It's okay, Fawkes. Everything's gonna be okay. Just don't cry, alright?"  
  
Suddenly, five and a half months of accumulated fear, confusion and frustration, combined with his anger and worry over Bobby's recent inch-by inch withdrawal, all crashed in on Darien at once, causing something inside him to blow apart with a force he couldn't contain, a force released in a flood of tears and words.  
  
"I... can't... help it! I'm not... in control.... of anything anymore!" he sobbed in-between deep, hitching breaths. "It's... it's like that... that movie... about the alien pods.... my mind... and my body... have been hijacked! I love Bobbi... an' I want her.... more than food, water an' air.... but first the gland... now her.... I.... I can't keep this up much longer.... it's gonna kill me...."  
  
Hobbes suddenly understood what Darien needed him to do and say, but he wasted precious minutes fighting off his fears and reservations. When he'd finally gathered enough strength to push all the negativity aside, he rose from the chair and followed the lead of his heart.  
  
A moment later Darien felt Bobby's weight sink down onto the mattress behind him, felt his best friend curl close to him, hands gently massaging the tension from his shoulders and neck, voice softly working to ease his distress. The shock immediately halted Darien's tears, but the sorrow was replaced with bewilderment as he partially sat up and recoiled from Bobby's touch.  
  
"Hobbes! Are you nuts?! We said...."  
  
" *I* said I'd be here for you through this whole thing an' do whatever it took to see you an' the baby made it to the end intact. Just relax, okay?"  
  
"Relax? God, what are you sayin'? You made it crystal clear how you felt about us ever gettin' that close again...."  
  
"How I feel ain't the issue, is it? Now lay back down.... an' shut up for a while, will ya?"  
  
"Hobbes..."  
  
"No. This is about you an' Bobbi.... this is what you need, partner. I felt it. Lemme help.... lemme take it away for a few hours."  
  
"Take what away?"  
  
"I don't know. Whatever's got you wakin' up in the middle of a battle every night. Whatever I can."  
  
Gradually, inevitably, Darien gave in to his fatigue and sank back down to the bed, surrendering to the hands smoothing his hair and untying the knots in his muscles, but the chance to interrogate a captive Bobby, he would not let pass by.  
  
"Hobbes..."  
  
"Mmmm."  
  
"If you're so fired up about bein' here for me an' the baby then what's with the scared rabbit impression lately?"  
  
"Shhh. Try an' get back to sleep..."  
  
"No. No way. This can't be one sided. I need to know why you won't let me do some of this for you. You've been tearin' yourself up over me an' Bobbi an' this whole thing. You're so good at makin' me feel better. I mean... layin' here with me when you swore..... I have a right to know why you can't take back some of the comfort you dish out so easy."  
  
"Not now, Fawkes. We both need sleep..."  
  
"Yes, now, or you get out an' go back to your room. You can't be all compassionate one minute then turn around and pull back into your shell the next. It isn't fair. Talk to me, Bobby. Please."  
  
Bobby's soothing massage stopped for several seconds while he swore vividly under his breath. When he got whatever it was out of his system, he began again.  
  
"Damn. I'll try an' explain so you'll understand, but I won't guarantee you'll get it. That day in the desert.... that time in the keep when I made the promise to Bobbi.... you can't know how bad I wanted to say the words, how much I wanted to just let you in. I mean that. You really... can't know. I try so hard not to feel too much.... 'cause I know what's gonna happen if I do.  
  
What you gotta see is that... love and loss are two sides of the same coin for me, Darien. Every time in my life I said I loved somebody it was like tossin' that coin in the air. I'd pray an' beg for it to come up the way I wanted.... an' it never did. Sometimes it teased.... you know, standin' on edge a while, makin' me hope? Then it dropped an' showed the face.... the face was always cryin'. You an' the baby are the best thing I've ever found, Fawkes. Don't force me to toss that coin again. I won't do it. You know how I feel. I just... can't say it. It's takin' too big a chance...."  
  
"I do get it, Bobby. You don't have to say it right now. If I forced it out of you it'd be worthless an' phony and it'd just drive you further away. That's the last thing I want. I can wait until you're ready; until you trust me enough. You're stuck with me for the rest of your life, Hobbes. I can afford to be patient."  
  
"Fawkes...."  
  
"Quiet. Go to sleep." Darien admonished Bobby with a soft chuckle as he reached back to grasp his partner's hand and draw it forward over his rounded abdomen. To their mutual surprise, both men fell asleep quickly and slept deeply, despite the awkward position.  
  
Darien had no more nightmares that night. His dreams remained vivid, strange and undecipherable, but the fear, anger and violence had gone out of them and did not return.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC....  
  
Thanks for keeping the positive reviews coming ya'll. It lets me know I'm on the right track, but I expect to hear if I'm about to derail! If there's anything that bugs you or if I miss something vital, don't be afraid to say so. You guys are the greatest and I'm so glad you like the story. 


	11. End Week 22

End Week 22  
  
"Fawkes. This is gettin' ridiculous. Will you just admit...."  
  
"No." Darien growled as he pulled a sixth pair of pants from his dresser and unsuccessfully attempted to get them on.  
  
"We both knew this day had to come, partner. It's time."  
  
"No! It can't be!" Darien wailed, dropping to the edge of the bed and clutching the pair of pants as if it were a stuffed toy he couldn't bear to lose. "There has to be something here I still fit into!"  
  
"Sure. At six an' a half months pregnant an' considerin' those butt- huggin' pants you love so much? Good luck. This is too depressin' even for me. I'll be in the van."  
  
"I'm not doin' this. I won't."  
  
"Your other choice is walkin' around in your birthday suit, an' even though I'm pretty sure the hookers on the corner wouldn't mind, I don't wanna see it. So. Are you callin' Claire or am I?"  
  
"Bobby...."  
  
"Fine. I'll tell her. Hey, Claire!"  
  
Bobby strolled out of the room and caught up with Claire in the kitchen.  
  
"Are you boys ready? We'll all be late if we don't get going soon."  
  
"We're takin' the day off. It finally happened."  
  
"Oh, no. He must be so upset."  
  
"That's puttin' it mildly. Will you make our excuses to Eberts an' the Fish? Don't tell 'em the real story. The poor guy'll never live it down."  
  
"Of course. Give Darien my condolences."  
  
"I will. Thanks."  
  
"No problem."  
  
When Bobby re-entered the bedroom, Darien was back at his fruitless quest to find something to wear.  
  
"Man, give it up, will ya? I got us the day off. We're goin' shoppin' for maternity clothes an' that's final. I know you remember what keepie said about wearin' anything too tight around your belly...."  
  
"Stop it! Just go and leave me here to wallow in my freakish misery."  
  
"Don't think so. Today is not a wallowin' day. It's a shoppin' day." Bobby informed his despondent partner as he safety-pinned the waist of Darien's pants together, pulled his shirt over it to hide the correction and proceeded to drag him out of the house.  
  
"It's too soon! I don't need maternity clothes yet!"  
  
"Did you manage to even come close to buttonin' *anything* you tried this mornin'?"  
  
"No, but...."  
  
"Then shut up an' get in the van."  
  
"I can't go out like this! I look like I swallowed a watermelon whole! How can I walk into a store...."  
  
"Will you relax? I got a story all prepared...."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Good morning, gentlemen. Can I.... ah, help you?"  
  
"Trust me, I know it looks a little weird. It's one of those empathy things? He didn't dare ask his wife what size she is now so he figured if he put this thing on, them bein' near the same height an' build, he could get the right size clothes an' avoid upsettin' her, ya know?"  
  
"Of course, What a clever idea. Well, what can I show you today? We have a fine selection of dresses and skirts..."  
  
Darien immediately jumped in.  
  
"Not exactly what I was thinkin'. There are times she's more macho than I am. Pants, maybe?"  
  
"Pants it is. If you'll follow me?"  
  
"Right behind you." Bobby replied, grinning proudly at Darien's quick thinking.  
  
A little over an hour later, the two had selected several items both agreed on and one or two only Bobby liked but which the younger man had given in on to make Hobbes happy. The one Bobby currently held in his hands, however, Darien was adamantly opposed to and was not shy about saying so, though he kept his voice lowered so only Bobby would hear.  
  
"I have never worn an elastic waistband in my life and I'm not startin' now! Buttons and/or zippers an' that's it!"  
  
"It only makes sense. It'll stretch and see you through the rest of the pregnancy probably. You won't have to keep buyin' new stuff as you gain weight."  
  
"Gain weight. I cannot believe you just said that."  
  
"Fawkes, I'm sorry...."  
  
"You are such a jerk sometimes! Do you ever push the start button on your brain before you talk, huh?"  
  
"Darien, calm down. No hormone hissy-fits in public, okay? I know. Lemme take this stuff to the counter for them to hold onto and we'll go hit the furniture section. You stay here and cool off. I'll be right back."  
  
Eager to escape the 'Wrath Of Fawkes' as he'd begun calling it lately, Bobby grabbed the clothes they'd chosen, rushed to the counter with his request and slowly made his way back, wanting to give Darien as much time as he could. "Everything okay, now?"  
  
"Better. I just thought of somethin', Hobbes; somethin' neither one of us realized. It came to me when you mentioned gettin' furniture for Bobbi." Darien said as they began to move toward the area where the cribs, changing tables and other pieces were on display.  
  
His point dawned on the other man fairly quickly and Bobby suddenly frowned.  
  
"Oh, crap. You're right. You got a one-bedroom an' so do I. I could maybe fit a highchair in my place, but anything else is a no-go."  
  
"We can't live at Claire's forever. We're gonna have to give up our apartments."  
  
"Yeah, we are. Man, this is gonna take a while to process. I love my apartment. I've been there ten years."  
  
"I know. It's the first thing I ever claimed as mine that I didn't take from somebody else. I'm really proud of my place.... but we need to find a home the three of us can live in together."  
  
"When do you wanna start lookin?"  
  
"We better do it soon. Only three months to go."  
  
"Three an' a half."  
  
"Right. Two extra weeks. I'll take more time any way I can get it."  
  
"C'mon. You're not gettin scared already. It's a ways off still."  
  
"Scared? I'm terrified. For a long time I've done for myself, only depended on me. On the street you look out for number one or you don't survive. Now there's gonna be you an' Bobbi...."  
  
"Hey. You ain't in this alone, kid. We'll lean on each other, depend on each other. We'll get through this just fine. What do you think about this one? The clowns too much?" Bobby asked, sensing Darien slipping into a minor funk and knowing he had to draw him back out quickly or live with his friend's distance and distraction for at least a day or two.  
  
"A little." Fawkes replied, his eyes sliding away from the sheet set Bobby was trying to show him.  
  
{C'mon, kid. Don't go all dark an' moody. I didn't mean it that way...}  
  
Regretting the downward slide his comment about Darien's fear had started, Hobbes tried a second time to halt it, this time finding success.  
  
"How about the zoo animals? Giraffes and zebras are cool an' educational."  
  
"Over the top. I like the kittens."  
  
"Yeah. Not bad. I like how they look real instead of cartoony, you know? A little cutesy, but babies an' cute kinda go together. I could go for that. Should we get the sheet set now and put the crib on layaway?"  
  
"Good idea. Maybe the changing table too."  
  
"Do they have that in the kittens?"  
  
"I don't know. We can ask."  
  
"There's somebody. You keep lookin' for the rest of the stuff we're gonna need later on, okay? If we can get everything in one place that's a bonus. Try an' find a highchair done in somethin' about kitties too."  
  
{Bobby Hobbes likes cats.... every day it's something new, interesting and unbelievably strange. This is definitely something to store away for future gift-giving and blackmail purposes....} Darien chuckled to himself. {If I can't find a highchair with cats, maybe I'll give him a little surprise of my own. Little? What am I thinking? It'll knock him on his ass....}  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
A few hours later, Bobby dropped Darien off at home to take a badly needed nap and took the spoils of their shopping spree to the keep to show them off to Claire.  
  
"Yeah, so I think we picked up enough clothes today to get him through 'till she gets here." Bobby mumbled, his head stuck in a shopping bag as he rooted through it for things Claire hadn't seen yet. "Hey, check out these sheets for the crib." He announced happily, pulling them and himself out of the plastic sack with a great deal of rustling.  
  
"Oh, how sweet. I love kittens. What a wonderful choice. I'm sure the baby will adore them."  
  
"She won't care. Babies don't care if it's Wrestlemania sheets underneath 'em, long as they ain't sleepin' on pointy rocks or in a snake pit or somethin'."  
  
"From what you've told me about her already, I think this baby will definitely have her own opinion. Darien should have consulted her." Claire replied off-handedly as she casually rifled through some of the items Bobby had laid out on the admin. chair. "These were a good choice. The stretch waistband will keep them in his wardrobe right up to the baby's arrival I should think."  
  
"That's what I told him, but he hated 'em. Somethin' to do with him bein' sensitive about his weight. I had to sneak 'em in when he wasn't lookin'."  
  
"He's right where he should be as far as his weight goes. He's no heavier than any other pregnant wom.... person is at this stage. Because his body isn't constructed properly for carrying a child and because he was so thin to begin with, he might think he looks excessively heavy, but he's fine."  
  
"Have you got the radio on?"  
  
"Yeah, just quietly. I often do. Why?"  
  
"Can you turn it up a little? I swear I recognize that song."  
  
Twisting around slightly, Claire reached back and dialed up the volume on her portable radio. "Who is that? I know I've heard it before..."  
  
"That? It's Jim Croce, isn't it?"  
  
"Right! 'I'll have to say I..."  
  
Bobby halted mid-sentence, a 'eureka!' look sweeping over his face.  
  
"Bobby? What is it?"  
  
"You keep blank tapes hangin' around don't you?"  
  
"Video or audio?"  
  
"Audio. I wanna... record somethin'."  
  
"Of course. Any particular length?"  
  
"Nah. Doesn't matter."  
  
Curiosity dominating her expression, Claire walked to a drawer on the left side of the lab, extracted a cassette and returned.  
  
"Here you are. If it's that one song you're interested in, I've got Jim Croce's greatest hits in my CD case over there. You can tape it on the stereo in the back of the lab."  
  
"Yeah? Cool! Thanks."  
  
"Do I get to know what this is all about?"  
  
"Not yet. You'll probably know tomorrow mornin'..... 'till then it's a secret."  
  
"Alright." She laughed softly. "You know how to use that stereo I presume?"  
  
"I can figure it out. Thanks again."  
  
"You're welcome, Bobby."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
THAT NIGHT: DARIEN'S BEDROOM  
  
"What the heck.... Unspoken? That's all it says. Unspoken. Sounds like the new Jewel album or somethin'."  
  
Curious, Darien popped the cassette he'd found on his pillow into the walkman he kept by his bed and pushed play.  
  
*Well, I know it's kinda late.  
  
I hope I didn't wake ya,  
  
But there's somethin' that I just gotta say.  
  
I know you'll understand.  
  
Every time I tried to tell you the words just came out wrong,  
  
So I'll have to say I love ya in a song.....  
  
Every time the time was right all the words just came out wrong,  
  
So I'll have to say I love ya in a song.....*  
  
Tears streaming down his cheeks, Darien had trouble seeing well enough to stop the player when the song ended. "Unspoken..... yeah, but you found a way, buddy. One shock after another with you.... unbelievable..."  
  
Pushing the button that would rewind the cassette, Darien laid back on his bed and adjsuted his earphones. When the tape clicked off he pushed play again and closed his eyes against fresh tears.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC....... 


	12. Week 25

Week 25: Seventh Month  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
Smiling lightly, Darien tore through the contents of his sock drawer for the third time, even though he knew the object he sought wasn't there.  
  
{It's gone again. How he always knows right where to find that cassette, I'll never figure out. Not that I mind all that much. It's so cool when he gets inspired enough to add a new song and if it makes things easier for him, I can deal. Hope he's having as much fun playing 'tape, tape, where's the tape' as I am.}  
  
"Darien? It's time to get to work, sweetheart. Did you find it?"  
  
"Nah. He's got it again. It's okay. It means I get a new tune tonight. Can't wait to hear what he came up with this time."  
  
"I'm so glad the two of you are close again. There was a day or two when I thought...."  
  
"Me too. But we talked through it.... eventually. Gettin' Hobbes to talk about how he feels is only slightly easier than givin' Godzilla an enema."  
  
A step behind Darien on their way to the front door, Claire suddenly stopped, the truth behind Bobby's tape project finally hitting her.  
  
"Oh! So that's what all this business with the songs is about; a way to express himself without having to put it into words."  
  
"Yeah. Not his words, anyway. You comin'?"  
  
"Yes. Yes of course."  
  
"Look. Can I ask you a favor? It's kind of a big one."  
  
"Sure. Whatever you need."  
  
"A ride to the art supply store an' one other place over lunch, a medical excuse to go home a little early and a promise not to spill anything to Bobby."  
  
"That's three favors." Claire chided him gently, beaming as she assisted him into her car.  
  
"I know. So I fudged it a little. Help me?"  
  
"Absolutely. You settled?"  
  
"As much as I can be." Darien groaned as he shifted in his seat trying to get comfortable.  
  
"What is it? Is something wrong?" Claire asked as she slid in behind the wheel, buckled up and started the vehicle.  
  
"Not really. It's just that suddenly every trip in a car is an episode of 'Honey, I Shrunk the Seatbelt.'."  
  
"Focus on the reason you're getting bigger instead of the inconveniences. Your little girl is growing and changing inside you. In a little less than three months you'll be holding her in your arms." The Keeper responded as she pulled away from the curb and into traffic.  
  
"Yeah. You know, I've been wantin' to talk to you about that. I understand there's pretty much only one way this birth is gonna happen, but.... some details might help me understand a little better.... help me not be so afraid of it."  
  
"I can do that. I'll warn you, the specifics of a caesarean section can get graphic. Are you sure?"  
  
"I'm sure. I need to know before it's all happening and I'm too drugged out or freaked to think about it."  
  
"That reminds me. I've been doing some study and if you and Bobby are interested.... I'd be willing to conduct a few Yoga classes and some altered Lamaze sessions for the both of you."  
  
"Lamaze? Weren't we just discussing a C-section? Lamaze is for those who have the equipment to.... you know."  
  
"It's more than that. It's focus and breathing and it will teach Bobby how to support you in the operating room. The yoga will help a lot with your stress level, the muscle cramps and aches and pains, as well as helping you sleep better."  
  
"I don't have trouble sleeping anymore." Darien murmured, too low for Claire to understand but loud enough for her to know he'd said something and wonder about the sweet smile that had stolen over his face.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing. It's a good idea. Yeah. I'd be okay with it, I guess."  
  
"Wonderful. Just let me confirm Bobby's participation and I'll set up a schedule for the classes."  
  
"I've got my next ultrasound in a couple days. If you can get him to say yes, we can talk about it then."  
  
"Excellent idea."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"You sent for me, sir?"  
  
"Yes. Please, sit. I have a project for you, Agent Monroe."  
  
{God please let this be it...} "Anything, sir. What can I do?"  
  
"I don't trust Eberts the way I used to. He actually dared to question one of my decisions about the child the other day. He's never done that before and I'm not sure I like it. I'm afraid he may try to do something to.... upset the apple cart, so to speak."  
  
"You're saying Eberts needs a shadow."  
  
"Precisely. Not all the time, mind you. You have your own work and we don't want him alerted to my sudden lack of faith in him. Just keep your eyes open. If he seems to be acting suspiciously or you sense even the slightest little thing is off kilter about him...."  
  
"I understand, sir."  
  
"First, though, I have need of your services elsewhere. What with three months until the birth and seeing as things have slowed down considerably with Arnaud dead and Liz Rendell in custody, I'm going to ask you to do something for me, something special. I've shown you the schedule for how things will run after the child is born. The candidates for receiving the child have been cut down to three. I need a liaison to check them out personally. I was going to send Eberts, but... Are you up for this? It'll take a couple weeks at least."  
  
  
  
"Of course I'm up for it, sir."  
  
"Here. These are the addresses.... and your plane ticket to your first destination. When you finish, go back to the same airport and the ticket for the second trip will be waiting for you. Same with the third flight. I'll be expecting daily status reports via email."  
  
"Right, sir. Am I expected to leave tonight?"  
  
"If at all possible."  
  
"Of course it's possible. I'm grateful you've chosen to give me such a large part in this operation. I won't disappoint you, sir. I promise you that."  
  
"I know you won't, Agent Monroe. I trust you'll live up to all my expectations."  
  
"A trust wisely placed, sir." Alex declared as she rose to her feet again. "If it's alright, I'll go home and start packing now."  
  
"Go."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
Alex turned and strode out of the office, her excitement and joy barely under her control.  
  
{Yes! I knew I could depend on you, Charlie. Together we'll set things straight around here. Just see if we don't. As for you Eberts, just wait 'till I get back. We'll see who's loyal and who gets his butt tossed in a cell beside the mad doctor's little wifey....}  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
When Bobby and Claire arrived home at the usual time that evening, Darien was nowhere to be found. The pair split up to search the house. Bobby found his partner a few minutes later in the last place he expected; Claire's little used art studio/sunroom at the back of the first floor.  
  
"Fawkes? What the hell are you doin' in here?"  
  
"What does it look like?"  
  
"It looks like you're paintin', but you don't paint."  
  
"Who says?"  
  
This confused Bobby, but only for a moment.  
  
"Nobody, but if you can paint, how come you never said anything? If you say I never asked, I'll beat your butt black an' blue an' hide your chocolate stash."  
  
"Well, you never did. Why would you have reason to think a former thief could do anything else with his hands, right?"  
  
This comment brought a tiny fragment of hurt to Bobby's expression.  
  
"Hey, I didn't mean that an you know it..."  
  
"I know. Sorry. I'm just.... nervous. I never told anybody else I can paint. Not my street buddies, not the people I did jobs with.... In high school, I was really good. My art teacher junior year said I could be a professional if I wanted it bad enough. By then, though, I was too far gone into the life to look back. I found somethin' that wanted me worse than I wanted to do this...."  
  
Still standing half in and half out of the room, Bobby hesitated to go any farther. He could only see a portion of what Darien was working on and he thought he knew what it was, but something warned him not to intrude without explicit permission.  
  
"What you're paintin'.... is that..... can I come in an' see?"  
  
"I guess. You laugh or make fun an' I won't be the one who ends up black an' blue, you get me, Hobbes?"  
  
"Not in a million years, Fawkes. I just wanna...."  
  
Once he was finally far enough into the room to get a clear look at what Darien was creating, Bobby halted, desperately trying to swallow the rock that was suddenly lodged in his throat, leaving him able to speak only a word or two at first.  
  
"Wow.... it's.... wow, man.... I mean...."  
  
"Is that 'wow, I love it', or 'wow it's the ugliest thing in creation, burn it now before it sucks us all into hell'?"  
  
When Claire entered the room and laid a gentle hand on Bobby's shoulder, he stopped struggling for words and looked back at her, relieved to allow her to take over.  
  
"It's all you said it would be, Darien. Wonderful job. You truly are gifted." Claire praised, gazing incredulously at what had been a plain, unfinished wooden high-chair when she and Darien had brought it home earlier that day. The head-rest was now exquisitely painted with kittens tumbling and playing against a background of clouds and blue sky and he had almost finished work on a mother cat with a single kitten at her side that took up most of the area of the seat.  
  
"Yeah! That's what I was.... it's what I wanted to say, but... ... it's gorgeous.... where'd you get this?" Bobby sputtered out, stepping forward to touch a spot on the head-rest that seemed to be safe then pulling back at the last minute.  
  
"It's okay. That's dry. Don't mess up the seat, though. I ordered it about a week ago. Picked it up today at lunch, played sick for the afternoon an' came home to start workin' on it."  
  
"Sick? You knew about this?" Bobby asked, turning to Claire.  
  
"Not until this morning. He made me promise not to tell."  
  
For several minutes, Hobbes studied the finished section, continually finding images that made his heart twist or had him chuckling under his breath. One kitten in particular, which seemed to be trying to clean a bit of cloud off its paw, he knew would never leave him.  
  
"Fawkes. Stop a minute an' look at me, okay?"  
  
"Can it wait? I've just got the tip of the mother's tail to do...."  
  
"Please."  
  
Sighing, Darien laid the brush on the paper plate he was using for a palette and turned his eyes up to Bobby.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Wow, I love it."  
  
Gazes locked together, neither man spoke for a long time. The vapor lock broke only when Bobby moved a short distance away to grab a second chair, brought it back and placed it by Darien's side. While the younger man returned to his painting, Hobbes contented himself with laying an arm across his partner's shoulders and simply watching him create. Realizing that both men had forgotten she was ever in the room, Claire slipped out and retreated to the kitchen to make dinner.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
When the call to come to the table finally reached their ears, Darien was just putting the finishing touches on the seat of the highchair; a pink bow on the tiny kitten leaning into her mother's side.  
  
"Unbelievable. That bow is perfect. Couldn't get any better."  
  
"Thanks. I kinda like it."  
  
"You already know my opinion. Truth, Fawkes. You never told me about you bein' able to paint 'cause you didn't trust me with it, right?"  
  
"No, Hobbes. That isn't it. You know...."  
  
"Right?" Bobby insisted. Darien finally sighed softly and bent his head a little.  
  
"I told you, I never trusted anyone with this. I didn't think anyone could possibly understand...."  
  
"You took the chance, though. Why now? An' why me?"  
  
Rising stiffly to his feet, Darien dropped his brushes into a container of diluted turpentine and brushed the back of one pigment streaked hand over Bobby's cheek before heading off to clean himself up.  
  
"I decided if anything in my life was ever worth taking a chance on.... it's you."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC..... 


	13. Week 25:continued

Week 25: cont.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Yes, sir. I kept the appointment."  
  
"That's all you have to say?"  
  
"I'm... not exactly sure how to describe the place, sir."  
  
"You sound upset."  
  
"No. More like.... profoundly disturbed. My guide was very informative, but the whole time.... I wanted to throw up. I can't explain it, really. The place seemed like a perfectly normal research facility..... but I got this nasty feeling that it was all a veneer. I'm fairly certain we wouldn't like what we found if you peeled that away."  
  
"Did you actually see any children?"  
  
"They showed me a few. They seemed healthy."  
  
"Healthy? That's it? Just... healthy?"  
  
"They certainly weren't happy. One or two.... their eyes were dead, nothing behind them. Another.... he looked at me.... and I knew he was begging me to get him out of there."  
  
"Your final analysis?"  
  
"An unequivocal not in a million years. I wouldn't board my dog in this place. I'd be afraid he'd end up disected and then sewn back together with parts of other dogs to make a Franken-canine."  
  
"Not exactly a rational assessment."  
  
"If you'd seen those children, sir.... you wouldn't be too rational right now either."  
  
"Maybe. I'll accept your report. Why didn't you use e-mail as we discussed?"  
  
"E-mail.... it couldn't have gotten across what I felt. I wanted to be sure you'd understand. The second of the three candidates will be better I'm sure. That report I'll email."  
  
"Fine. I'll expect to hear from you the day after tomorrow."  
  
"That should work out just about right. Goodbye, sir."  
  
"Goodbye, Agent Monroe."  
  
As the last of the phone conversation was being spoken, Eberts walked into the Officials office, doing his level best, as always, to make it appear as if he hadn't heard a word when he'd actually absorbed everything he'd managed to overhear.  
  
"Eberts. I didn't call you."  
  
"I know, sir. That's why I came to... check on you. You usually order lunch at twelve on the dot. When it got to be almost one and I hadn't heard from you..."  
  
"Is it that late?"  
  
"Actually, it is. The conversation you were having must have.... distracted you, sir."  
  
"It did actually. I'm going out to lunch today. Matter of fact, I'm taking the afternoon off too. Let the relevant people know. If anything comes up, I'll deal with it tomorrow."  
  
"Of course, sir. I won't contact you unless it's an absloute emergency."  
  
"Call the police or the fire department first. Town Council, the Mayor.... anyone but me. Hell, don't call me unless half the staff is dead and the building's been blown to hell."  
  
"As you say, sir." Eberts replied modestly, keeping his excitement well hidden. The Keeper had informed him that today was a critical ultrasound for Darien and he'd been certain the Official also knew and was planning to be there, assuring no one would find any joy in a process that should be filled with it.  
  
Following his boss out of the room, Eberts accompanied him to the door and surreptitiously watched him climb into his car and drive off the grounds before heading for the Keep to spread the good word.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"I can't think of any reason a call from Agent Monroe would upset him in such a manner, but it must have been that. He was fine earlier today."  
  
"Let's not question our good fortune, shall we? Let's just reap the benefits. A stress free procedure for Darien and Bobby and an afternoon of relative peace for all of us. Speaking of Alex, why is she calling the Official? Why isn't she here? She never said anything about an assignment."  
  
"It's something special he asked her to do. He wouldn't say more than that."  
  
Carefully studying Eberts' expression, Claire gently probed at the cause behind his seeming melancholy.  
  
"What is it, Albert? You look very sad all of a sudden."  
  
"I am.... in a way. It's actually more concern than sadness. I.... may I tell you something, doctor? In the strictest confidence of course. I only ask because.... I'm in a very deep quandry. I need to talk to someone."  
  
"Of course, Albert. Sit down. Do you want a drink of water or some coffee..."  
  
"No. No thank you."  
  
Eberts waited paitiently until Claire had settled down on the stool across from him before he began. "Firstly, you must know that I would never break a confidence of this magnitude unless the situation were grave. I'm frightened... and deeply torn. I simply can't decide what to do about this. I believe I know all too well what the right thing is.... I simply question whether I have the strength to do it...."  
  
"Dear Lord. I can see the pain you're in. Tell me what it is and I'll do everything I can to help."  
  
"The Official.... he plans to seize Darien and Robert's child immediately after birth.... and hand it over to whatever organization seems to be the best candidate.... or can pay him the most money. I'm not at all sure which."  
  
"Dear God... he wouldn't.... he could never concieve.... the man is arrogant and annoying, but.... I never saw him as evil.... Do you think that's what he's got Alex doing? Out interviewing his top candidates?"  
  
The notion seemed to disturb Eberts even more deeply  
  
"I... can't say, but it seems a likely proposition. Ever since I questioned one of the coroprations on his list of potential..... bidders for the child he's been subtly edging me out of his inner circle and pulling Agent Monroe in. I'm afraid you may be right, doctor."  
  
"Did you have a legitimate reason to voice your concern to him?"  
  
"By all means. This organization.... let us just say that I've heard nothing about it which didn't make me cringe in fear or want to be violently ill. I absolutely had a legitimate concern. He ignored me. In my frustration.... I made a comment I shouldn't have. I believe it was then that he began to lose trust in me. What do I do now, doctor? If I can't stay close to him, I won't be able to keep up with his plans and I have to do that. I have to stop him from committing this act of.... depravity in the name of the Agency."  
  
"We, Albert. We have to stop him and we will. I can't tell you what it means to all of us that you were brave enough to bring us this information. The more time we have to draw up a defense, the better chance we have of saving the baby."  
  
"Brave? Oh, no, doctor. Brave is one thing I'm not. Far from it...."  
  
"I say you are. There's more than one type of bravery, Albert. In my eyes, moral courage is far more valuable than the other sort. I have a marvelous idea. Since the Official has arbitrarily decided to take the afternoon off, why don't you do the same?"  
  
"I could... I suppose, but with this weight on my heart, I could never concentrate on enjoying myself...."  
  
"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind. I was going to do some baby shopping before I have to meet Darien and Bobby at the hospital for the ultrasound. Would you like to come with me to both?"  
  
"Be at the ultrasound? Why.... yes. I really think I'd like that. I was planning on making a purchase or two for the child closer to Agent Fawkes due date, but.... there's no sense putting it off. I'd be delighted to accompany you this afternoon, doctor."  
  
"Good. You're welcome to come along on one condition."  
  
"Which would be?"  
  
"Call me by my name instead of my title for once." she admonished him teasingly.  
  
"Oh. Of course..... Claire."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Man. I almost forgot. My ultrasound's in two hours. I gotta get back to the house, grab a cat nap then get cleaned up. I can't wait. Claire said I get a treat today.You are still takin' me, right?"  
  
" 'Course I am. What'd you think, I was gonna leave you stranded at this hot dog stand while I took a trip to Monte Carlo or somethin'?"  
  
"Don't get testy, Hobbes. I didn't know if you had an assigment to prep for or somethin' else you had to get done. I'm a big boy. I can take a cab to the hospital an' a cab home." Darien replied loftily, briskly wiping his mouth and beginning the struggle to rise to his feet while retaining at least a shred of dignity. Bobby leapt up and was at his partner's side in a moment, supporting Fawkes as he stood and found his balance. "I'm okay. I don't always need help."  
  
"Yeah, well this time you did."  
  
"I told you before. I need to feel like I can do for myself for as long as I can. The last thing I want is someone treatin' me like an invalid before I am one.... even if the intention was noble. I know you're here for me, Bobby. You show it in a million different ways. Sometimes, though.... what I really need is for you to stand still and let me do it. Okay?"  
  
"Okay. I hear what you're sayin'. I really do. It's just.... when I see you havin' to fight just to get out of a chair.... I get a guilt complex, ya know? I have to help."  
  
"I didn't say I'll never need or want your hand under my elbow, Hobbes, but I can get up on my own most times. Knowing you're there and offering is enough to make things easier. Knowing you're willing to hold me up.... it makes me stronger. There won't ever be a time when I *don't* need that."  
  
Shoving down the emotions he knew would cause a messy and very public scene, Bobby sniffed, quickly put on his game face and pulled out the keys to the van.  
  
"Nice to know, Fawkes. Nice to know. Let's get you home, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, please. My back is killing me and my feet are second in line."  
  
"Right. Nap time. I think I'll try and get a couple chapters read while you're snoozin'. I ain't had time to do much of that lately."  
  
"That book on the nightstand was yours? I wondered where it came from." Darien mumbled, chin in his chest while he tried to see around himself well enough to secure the seat belt. Sliding into the driver's position, Bobby watched the other man battle the contraption for several seconds before shooting him a look.  
  
"Need a hand?"  
  
Darien sighed out his frustration and weariness and handed the buckle to Bobby, who slid it into place until it clicked.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"No problem, partner. Anytime."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"I hate this. I really, really hate this."  
  
"You can't be serious." Claire admonished him. "You can't mean that you hate seeing your child develop and knowing how she's doing."  
  
"Are you crazy? I meant I hate holding still. We're comin' up fast on that eighth month. By then I'll be a blimp who can't get out of bed. They'll have to knock down a wall of your house to get me out."  
  
"You're exaggerating, sweetheart. You are not a blimp. You do however have to cut back a little on your food intake. You had second helpings of everything Bobby cooked last night *plus* dessert."  
  
"That pasta putanesca was luscious an' you know I can't walk away from your devil's food cake. Speaking of which, you said I got a treat today."  
  
"Sorry to disappoint, but it isn't anything you can eat. When Bobby gets here, if he ever does..."  
  
"I know, I know. I'm late." Hobbes huffed, jogging into the room.  
  
"What happened? You were only parking the van."  
  
"Golda stalled right in the middle of the lot an' I had to push her into a space. She would pick today to get jealous over my payin' so much attention to you lately."  
  
"The van... is jealous of me. If I hadn't actually watched you take your meds this morning...."  
  
"Just 'cause you don't believe don't give you the right to make fun there, buddy boy. I mean, we could talk about your comb collection. Run outta letters to use for names yet, have ya?"  
  
Darien dropped the argument abruptly.  
  
"Keepie. You ready for that surprise?"  
  
"Yes. In the interest of peace I'll pull your foot out of your mouth one more time." Claire chuckled as she slid the sensor over her patient's rounded belly. "There she is. She's a bit bigger than I expected at this stage, perhaps. She seems to be developing well. Everything looks just fine." She commented, reaching over to fiddle with a dial on the machine. Suddenly, bizarre, unearthly sounds began to echo through the room, drawing Eberts, who had tucked himself away in a corner, closer to the group. He thought he knew what Claire's surprise was, but kept his thoughts to himself. Darien and Bobby were more vocal.  
  
"What the...."  
  
"What is that, Claire? What did you do?"  
  
"You'll see in a minute...." she answered cryptically as she slowly manipulated the sensor, using the image on the screen and her ears as a guide, halting when the sound changed, indicating she'd found what she was seeking. "That gentlemen.... is the heartbeat of your unborn child."  
  
"Heart..... no way. It can't be.... really?"  
  
"Really. It sounds healthy and strong too."  
  
Silent, Darien gazed up at his partner, his expression transformed by wonder and joy.  
  
"Bobby.... you hear that? It.... it's her heart."  
  
"Yeah. I know, partner. I can hear."  
  
Bobby blindly reached out and grasped Darien's hand, trying to ground himself, to make the sensation of floating that had gripped him cease, but it had no affect. The sound filled his head, making him want to cover his ears. He suddenly realized that through all the weeks and months, through every day since he'd found out he might become a father, the child his partner was carrying had been only an idea to him. It was an abstract concept; one he believed in, thought he understood and had come to terms with but, he now saw, only in the most detatched possible way.  
  
But the concept had a heartbeat.There was now tangible, audible evidence that his daughter existed and suddenly nothing was abstract anymore. Reality and truth both blitzkrieged Bobby Hobbes' mind at once and he broke under the force of the assault. Tearing his hand out of Darien's, Bobby spun and ran for his life; to the stairwell, down to the lobby and out to his van, where he sat with his head in his hands, trembling  
  
violently and utterly unable to think what to do next. Whe he sensed someone open the passenger door and slide in beside him, he opened his mouth to warn them to get out, but his visitor spoke first, overriding him.  
  
"What happened, Robert?"  
  
"I... I don't know. Is he.... are they...."  
  
"They're upset and confused, It will pass. What about you?"  
  
"More of the same, I guess. Way more. Look, I gotta ask you a favor. Is there any assignment on the boards right now.... somethin' that'll get me away for a while.... a couple weeks, maybe? Please... I can't explain it..... I'll take anything."  
  
"Robert. I know it's not what you want to hear at the moment but leaving will solve nothing and this is a very bad time...."  
  
"Eberts. Stop. The assignment."  
  
"If that's what you genuinely feel you must do...."  
  
"It is."  
  
"There is one thing. It's nothing but surveilance. It's up north in the mountains...."  
  
"I'll take it."  
  
"Robert, please reconsider...."  
  
"The details?"  
  
"On my desk at the office. I won't lie to Darien and Claire. They have a right...."  
  
"I don't care who you tell. You'll see Fawkes gets back to Claire's?"  
  
"Yes, of course. Robert.... Bobby..."  
  
"Get out, Eberts. I've got things to do.... places to be."  
  
Gazing sadly at Bobby, Eberts surrendered and slid out of the van. He watched Hobbes roar out of the parking lot, then turned and trudged back into the hospital to face Claire and Darien.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC.... I know. Exactly what you were screaming at me not to do. Trust your beloved author, faithful readers. Day always follows night, I swear. 


	14. Week 26

Week 26:  
  
^^^^^^^^^^  
  
Seated in the art studio, slightly behind and to the left of Darien, Claire watched him put the finishing touches on a painting, and held back tears only with effort. A few days earlier she had obtained several blank canvases at his request, never dreaming that he planned to use them the way he had.  
  
When Eberts had informed them of Bobby's temporary defection, Claire had believed it the worst moment she had ever known, bar none. She'd had to watch Darien's face go slack with shock, then harden into a mask of repressed fury and anguish and prayed she'd never have to see anyone look like that again, but her worst moments were yet to come. The paintings her charge had created in the days since his partner's disappearance, paintings full of nothing but darkness, pain, rage and hopelessness, were sometimes hard for Claire to even look at, despite the obvious skill in the hand of the artist.  
  
He had told her that creating the paintings released a great deal of the negative emotions within him, but she saw no outward evidence of the truth of his statement. Over the previous two days he had eaten only sporadically and, if confronted on the subject, refused to eat anything at all. He had lost weight, Claire was certain, but he also refused to allow her to examine him, so she had no proof.  
  
"This one.... it's different from the others. A little brighter. It still worries me, though. I hate to see you like this."  
  
"Stop feeling guilty. It isn't your fault. None of this is."  
  
"I know that. I just.... I want to help. You can turn to me as well as the canvas if you need an outlet..."  
  
Darien frowned faintly and added a stroke to the swirling, pulsing nebula of tiny words he'd created in the center of a black square.  
  
"The paintings help me not feel like shit. I told you that. If it bugs you that much.... don't look at it."  
  
For a moment, Claire's guilt trebled, as if she'd been accused of unfairly criticizing his work, but when a closer look at the words revealed one of them to be death, she knew that expressing her concern was far more important than soothing her own ego.  
  
"It's not the paintings I'm questioning, sweetheart. It's what's driving you to paint them. Please stop, just for a little while. Let's try an alternative."  
  
"Like?"  
  
The lack of emotion or depth in Darien's voice chilled Claire to the bone, but she pressed on.  
  
"A while back I offered to lead some yoga classes for you, remember? Well yoga isn't only good for aches and pains, it can be a tremendous help in lifting the spirit."  
  
"I'm not ready to be.... lifted yet."  
  
"Well your child is ready for some nourishment. It's been two days since you've eaten anything substantial. That isn't healthy for either one of you. I know you too well, Darien. It may take weeks for you to completely work this out, and until then the everyday, normal things, including regular meals, won't even enter your mind. Your little girl can't wait weeks. You have to eat, which means you need to *want* to eat, which means you need a better way to purge the pain. I won't stop you making your paintings... but I think you need more."  
  
Abruptly, Darien threw his brush into the container containg the cleaning solution and rounded on Claire angrily.  
  
"Look, damn it! What I *need* is for you to stop assuming you know what's best for me or know what I'm feeling! Bobby didn't walk out on *you*! He didn't *bail* on *you*!"  
  
Immediately Claire took Darien's face into her hands and cradled it, relieved when he didn't push her away.  
  
"I know, I know. All I'm asking for is a chance. Let me try and help you through this awful, terrible time. Let me do what I can to help...."  
  
Eventually Darien nodded within the comforting grasp of Claire's fingers. She assisted him in getting to his feet and they moved to a part of the house he hadn't been in before; the small exercise room on the second floor, directly across from Claire's bedroom.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"How did you expect them to react, Robert? Did you think they'd leap and dance for joy when you abandoned your child and your partner in one fell swoop?"  
  
"I didn't wanna go like that.... I wanted to say somethin' to him, but.... it woulda just hurt him worse to explain it."  
  
"Noble intentions will never justify ignoble actions, Robert. The point is you chose to leave, to walk away..."  
  
"Hey, I didn't abandon anybody, okay? I'm comin' back.... next week."  
  
"Yes, well don't look for a brass band and a cheering crowd to welcome you home. All you're likely to get is me waiting at the airport for you.... and then only if the Official forces me to."  
  
"I get it, I get it! I'm off everybody's Christmas list."  
  
"Add New Years Eve, Valentine's Day and Easter and you might begin to truly understand the magnitude of the impact your actions have had. Darien hasn't eaten in two days. Everything he paints lately is dark and melancholy. If you could have seen his face when I told him you'd left..."  
  
"He's not eatin'? Why would he do that to the baby? How could he...."  
  
"How could you? The assignment means nothing in the face of this, Robert. Leave there right now and come home. It's not too late to make things right."  
  
"I can't. I just.... I'm not done yet. I got more work.... an' more thinkin' to do. I can't come home now. Next week..."  
  
"Next week? Next week might as well be next year. Any time you willingly surrender right now is time you can't get back. By next week you could lose all hope of ever reconciling with Darien.... or ever seeing your child."  
  
"Don't you think I know that?! I know.... I know what could happen.... but I just can't come back yet. I'm not ready. Seein' as you feel....the way you feel, I won't bother to call again and don't send anybody to the airport. I'll get a cab back."  
  
"Robert... Robert?"  
  
Eberts listened to the dial tone for a few surprised seconds then terminated the connection on his end as well. "Please change your mind, Robert. Please. Things are bad enough as they are. In another seven days.... only God knows what you'll come home to."  
  
The screech of the Official's voice over the intercom broke rudely into his assistant's thoughts.  
  
"Eberts? In my office and make it snappy!"  
  
"Yes, sir. On my way."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
At Claire's, Darien lay on his left side on a thick exercise mat while Claire sat close to him massaging his back and leading him through a simple stress meditation. For the first few minutes she had been afraid her idea wouldn't work, as his hands remained clenched into fists and the crease in his brow seemed determined to hold its place, but eventually, his body and mind began to respond to her soft words, his muscles unknotting and smoothing out under her hands.  
  
"Excellent. Breathe with my count. In, two, three. Hold, two, three. Out, two, three. Keep breathing slowly and evenly. Wonderful. Now, visualize a blank movie screen in your mind. There's nothing else but that endless expanse of white. No color, no movement, no thought. Just the white screen. Clear your mind completely. Relax. Focus on your breathing, on the sensation of your breath going in.... and out. That's right. In... and out. Your body is surrounded by a golden glow, Darien. It encases you like a cocoon made of love, peace and joy. Every pore in your body opens wide, welcoming this golden light, drawing it in even as the darkness of stress, anxiety and fear are expelled. Tranquility is absorbed with every breath, every inhalation. Each time you exhale, worry and apprehension flow out. Tranquility in, worry out. Tranquility in, worry out.... good. Keep breathing with the count. Slowly."  
  
"Claire?"  
  
"Yes. I'm right here."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"You're very welcome. Focus on your breathing."  
  
"I am."  
  
"But?"  
  
"I'm hungry."  
  
"You don't know how much I needed to hear that. Shall we stop and go find something to make an early dinner out of?"  
  
"Not yet. A little while longer?"  
  
"Alright. Breathe slowly in.... release it just as slowly.... feel the golden light, the peace and joy it carries lighting you up from the inside. Feel the pure love spread through and to every corner of your being....."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"I understand, Eberts. Relax. I'm handling it from this end. You just remember what I said. The strength has to come from inside you. You have to be willing to do what has to be done, even...."  
  
"No! Not that. I could never.... no."  
  
"I agree it should be a last resort, but it may come to that. If your hand is forced and you have no other options, use it. You still have it, don't you?"  
  
"Yes. I've come close to destroying it so many times.... but I know you're right. I may hate knowing it... but I do."  
  
"I don't like it any better. You know that. It may never become necessary. For now, stick to the plan we've come up with. Alright?"  
  
"Yes. The plan. Everything depends on this. I'm trusting you, someone I hardly know, with the safety of this child. If..."  
  
"Don't doubt me and don't doubt yourself, Albert. I promise everything will be fine."  
  
"If I can discover where my spinal column went so long ago.... perhaps it will, at that."  
  
"Maybe it went to live with all the socks that get lost in the dryer. Check there first."  
  
In spite of his tension the joke made Eberts laugh.  
  
"Sometimes I have to question where your sense of humor came from."  
  
"So do I, Albert. So do I."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC..... 


	15. Week 27: End Seventh Month

Week 27: End Seventh Month  
  
((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((  
  
SOLO  
  
(((((((  
  
'At some point, we all end up alone. There's a force of nature that makes us say, or do, something utterly moronic that blows apart our relationships. Putting them back together is the challenge; one only some of us are strong enough to face.'  
  
--Tariv Ginck // *Beings Together: The Art and  
  
Architecture of Love*  
  
(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( (((((((((((((((((((((((  
  
In the parking structure that served the Agency, Bobby sat in his van, in the semi-darkness, listening to the overworked engine tick and knock as it cooled. Something inside whispered that he should restart it, drive away and keep running, but he pushed it down until he couldn't hear it anymore. He had no idea what awaited him when he faced the ones he'd hurt and he wasn't at all sure he could handle it, but he intended to at least make the attempt. Even if they rejected him or their anger was beyond the point where clemency was possible, he would know he had tried.  
  
He had left the radio on while he pondered what his next move was supposed to be but it wasn't relaxing or calming him as he'd hoped it would. He realized that was probably because he was so wrapped up in himself that he wasn't paying it any attention. When he finally did start really listening, he found that, once again, the music was giving him his cue and he shivered slightly. The first thing he noticed was that it was a country station, or at least a country song, which, in itself, was strange, because that was one of the few musical genres he adamantly refused to listen to. Only then did the lyrics begin to sink in.  
  
'Some people think I'm a loser, cause I seldom get things right.  
  
But, you make me feel like a winner, when you wrap me in your arms so tight.  
  
Please tell me you will remember, no matter how much I do wrong,  
  
That I had the best of intentions all along.....  
  
The best-laid plans slipped right through my hands, to show my love for you....  
  
So here I am asking forgiveness and prayin' that you'll understand.  
  
Don't think I take you for granted. I know just how lucky I am.  
  
Though you deserve so much better, you won't find devotion more true,  
  
'Cause I've had the best of intentions, loving you....'  
  
Gathering the envelopes and folders that contained the results of his surveillance, Bobby pulled the keys from the ignition and slid from the van. He locked the door, nudged it shut with his hip and headed upstairs to drop everything off. He had major groveling and apologizing to do and it was time to get on with it.  
  
(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((  
  
"Well. Good morning, Agent Hobbes. Ah. I've been waiting for this report. How did it go?"  
  
"Perfectly, sir. I got all the evidence we need to take these creeps down and out before anybody gets hurt, but we need to move soon."  
  
"What's the rush?"  
  
"They don't have everything yet, but they will sometime in the next three days. They've got a line on a shipment of nukes an' they plan to jack it. It's all here. Transcripts and tapes." Hobbes told him, dropping all the material on the desk and turning away.  
  
"Excellent work, Bobby. Go home and get some sleep. I'll expect you here at 0500 tomorrow morning."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"To lead the strike team against these terrorists, of course."  
  
Bobby was silent for a moment, contemplating what was more important, more essential to his life at that moment. It didn't take him long to decide that it was time to start making the right choices and the consequences, for once, be damned.  
  
"Pick someone else."  
  
"Oh, no. You know the rule, Hobbes. The assignment's not over until the bad guy's in a cage."  
  
"To hell with the rules and to hell with you. I did somethin' really stupid an' now I gotta fix it. I'm not goin' anywhere 'till I do that. If that means I'm fired... that's what it means. You do what you have to. I got more important places to be than back up in the mountains or this crummy office."  
  
"0500, Agent Hobbes, or fired is exactly what you'll be."  
  
"Yeah? Then do it! Just lemme know when you're ready to boot my ass. I'll bring you my badge an' gun, you hand me six weeks severance pay an' we'll both be a hell of a lot happier!" Bobby retorted, slamming the door behind him as he left.  
  
A moment or two after the walls finally stopped vibrating, Alex entered the office through the other door.  
  
"He's going to be a problem."  
  
"Hobbes has *always* been a problem."  
  
"Agreed, but this is a new level. I know he's threatened to quit or let you fire him before, but this is different. I could hear it in his voice. He really doesn't care if he loses his job. Fawkes is more important to him."  
  
"Possibly, but he screwed that up well and thoroughly. I could have predicted he'd do something idiotic and selfish. He'll be paying for this for a long, long time...."  
  
'But just in case Darien turns soft-hearted, you'd like me to give their split a little... encouragement?"  
  
"If you get a chance. Why waste a talent for trouble-making?"  
  
"Understood, sir. Oh, do you have that new ticket for me? Not that I'm not glad a strike canceled the flight and I got a chance to come home for a night, but I would like to finish this."  
  
"Here. Call when you get in."  
  
"If I can."  
  
(((((((((((((((((((((((  
  
Within minutes of crashing out of the Official's office, and, he knew, possibly trashing his career, Bobby stood outside the Keep, trying to pull together the courage to press the door chime and face Claire. Finally, he reached out and touched the panel, listening for the sound to echo inside. He knew that when she left for an extended period of time she shut down the majority of the electronics in the lab. If the chime didn't sound, she wasn't there and he would receive a reprieve, but luck was against him and footsteps approached the door.  
  
"Yes? What can I.... Bobby. This is a surprise."  
  
"Yeah. I know."  
  
When Claire continued to stand in the doorway, blocking his path, Bobby was forced to request entrance, as he was sure she intended. "Look.... can I come in for a minute?"  
  
"I suppose." She conceded, stepping aside. "When did you get back?"  
  
"A couple hours ago, give or take. I shoulda called, I know. It's just..."  
  
"Yes you should have. If I'd had a little warning I could have sent Darien home. He really isn't ready to see you. Neither am I, but you're here so I'll have to muddle through somehow."  
  
"I know I've got a lot to explain and stupidity to make up for. I was hopin'... maybe I could come over tonight.... talk to both of you and straighten things out...."  
  
"No. Not yet. You go to your own apartment tonight. Perhaps in a day or two.... I don't know, Bobby. Darien... at first he was devestated and then he was just furious.... I'm finally beginning to get him to a place where he's calm most of the day. He's eating well, exercising, talking his feelings out instead of repressing them.... All I can promise is that I'll tell him you're home. I won't go any further than that."  
  
"Okay. I understand. All I need is a chance, Claire. One chance..."  
  
"I can't give you that. Forgiving you isn't up to me. Give it a little time."  
  
"Yeah, well that's the big twist ain't it? I know you're right. I should give Fawkes time and space, let him decide to come to me, but if I wait too long, he's gonna figure I don't give a damn and think I ran 'cause I don't want to be a part of his life or the baby's. Tell him.... tell him I got stuff to say an' I'm gonna find a way to get to him and say it, no matter who's in the way. Even if it's him."  
  
"It isn't just Darien who's telling you no, Bobby. It's me as well, so you'd better start listening."  
  
"I can't afford to. This is my kid an' my partner we're talkin' about. I'm not gonna lose either of em. I won't give up..."  
  
"It's a little late to make that promise. You already gave up, Bobby. Just because you only ran away for two weeks doesn't mean it was any less painful for us than if you'd disappeared and never returned. I said I'd tell Darien you came back. That's all I can do. The rest is up to him.... and you."  
  
"I never wanted to hurt you guys... hell, you know better than anybody how hard I've worked these past six months. This hit me... hit all of us like a grand piano off the roof, but I made myself open up to Darien. I made myself tell him things... really personal things an' he gave some back, too. I couldn't believe it when I saw that high-chair. I can't stand to watch all that work and his trust in me go through the shredder just 'cause I was such an idiot..."  
  
"You wouldn't want to see what he's been painting recently.... No, on second thought perhaps you should. You will have to face Darien eventually. It might help if you knew just exactly how deeply you've hurt him with this little "vacation" of yours. I'll find some excuse to keep him home tomorrow. You be here in the Keep at nine a.m. sharp and I'll show you a sample of the effect your actions have had on all of us."  
  
Bobby merely nodded, knowing this was an appointment he'd gladly keep. He sensed a fissure in Claire's disapproval and anger toward him and he would do anything he could to open it wider.  
  
"I can do that. Nine a.m. on the dot."  
  
"Fine. Now get the hell out of the Agency before Darien sees you by accident. If that happens I won't get him to eat dinner or sleep tonight."  
  
"I understand. I'm goin'. One thing, Claire... if I can ask. His nightmares... they haven't come back have they?"  
  
Claire hesitated before answering, sensing more behind the question than Bobby was ready to reveal.  
  
"Unfortunately, they have.... and they got worse when you left. The stress and the emotional upheaval were to blame, I'm sure...."  
  
"That was probably part of it, yeah. But not the biggest part..." Bobby mumbled as he made his way out of the Keep and back into the hall. He managed to make it down to the parking garage without encountering Darien and he was grateful, for more than the obvious reason. The thought that it really had been his presence which had banished the other man's nightly terrors had shaken Bobby to his core, so much so that he had great difficulty even unlocking the van. At the same time, he knew that was too simple an explanation.  
  
Eventually he succeeded in opening the driver's door but he only ended up shutting it again. Turning, he leaned heavily against the vehicle and forced himself to breathe deeply until he had calmed enough to think clearly and uncover the truth of what was distressing him so powerfully.  
  
When the revelation came, his determination to reach his partner and explain everything increased ten-fold, but he pushed it to the back burner and got into the van, thrusting the key into the ignition and reveling in the bass roar of the engine he knew so well.  
  
{Says somethin', I guess, that I know Golda's every knock and ping better than I know the people I spend all my time with. Man, I need to talk to him so bad.... it's all so clear, now. I can't do anything yet, though. Claire's right. Best thing for me is to go home and make sure I got this straight, make sure I really understand it myself before I try an' tell Fawkes what I was thinkin' when I took off. At least now I get it. I think I do.... damn. I ain't been sleepin' too well myself, come to think of it. How well can anybody sleep in the back of a van? Time for a long nap in a soft bed. Sheesh, when the fat man's givin' out good advice you just *know* Armageddon's comin' up fast....}  
  
((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((  
  
"Keepie? Claire, you in here?"  
  
"Come in, Bobby. I'm back here."  
  
Bobby followed the sound of Claire's voice to the rear of the lab where she was fussing with the placement of one of Darien's paintings on a tall easel. One look and Hobbes began to choke and was forced to turn away. "I thought that might be your reaction. It's the most visceral of everything he's done since you left. He claimed this was a accurate visual representation of what you did to his heart by leaving that day."  
  
"God... it's.... he couldn't have painted this.... not the Fawkes I know...."  
  
"He isn't the man you know and yes he did create this. This is his way of understanding and eradicating the pain, Bobby. Luckily, I was able to convince him to also try some relaxation and yoga. As I said.... he's doing better."  
  
"Better than that? Ugh, I hope so!"  
  
"Whatever else it may be, it's still art and it's still Darien's work so you will treat it with respect. Understood?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Of course. I'm sorry. It's just so.... real lookin'."  
  
"Yes, I know. He is very talented. I can't believe there was noone in his life willing to try to keep him from giving this up."  
  
"That's kinda why he ended up on the streets, Claire. There was really nobody in his life, period. At least he didn't think so."  
  
"You had the opportunity to change that. Damn it, you *had* changed that, Bobby. Do you have even the slightest clue why you threw it all away?"  
  
"Oh, yeah, I know. Wish I didn't.... It isn't hopeless, yet. I know it isn't. If I can just talk to him.... see him for a few minutes I know he'll understand."  
  
"You can't force it. That will only push him farther away..."  
  
"I know that. I didn't say I'd *make* him understand.... I just get a feelin' if I lay it out, if I tell him all the stuff I've worked through.... he'll just.... understand an' that's all I want right now. He doesn't have to forgive me. That'll come in time. For now... understandin' will do fine. It's a good first step, anyway."  
  
"Perhaps. You could be right, but I want a promise from you, Robert Hobbes. No, not a promise, a solemn vow."  
  
"Anything. Say it."  
  
"No matter how deeply you might feel the need to repair the damage you've done, when you do get to see Darien I want you to swear to me that his feelings and his needs come first. If he feels like screaming, or cursing.... or whatever, you stand there and you take it and you damn well thank him for it if that's what he seems to want."  
  
"Okay. I swear. He comes first, but....."  
  
"But what? There can't be any buts here, Bobby."  
  
"There's one. See, this is one of the things my little "vacation", as you call it, helped me clear up. I always put him first. Viv, Fawkes..... All my life, practically, I let everybody cut in line. It was easy to figure out what somebody else wanted and give it to 'em. What was near impossible was doin' the same thing for myself. I had no idea what *I* was about.... what I wanted or needed, so when whoever it happened to be started gettin' serious, askin' questions I couldn't answer, the whole thing fell apart.... but it was never my fault. Oh no, Bobby Hobbes had the perfect excuse. I can't tell what I don't know. That was a better chain breaker than a pair a'bolt cutters."  
  
"You're speaking in the past tense. Are you saying that's changed, that you don't have that excuse anymore?"  
  
"I don't want to have it. Soon as I straighten all this out with Darien... no more excuses, no more runnin' an' no more hidin'. Darien and my baby girl... they're the last chance for me to do it right, Claire. I'm no teenager. I know this little one is probably gonna be my only kid. I won't let my last hope go down the drain if I can do somethin' to save it."  
  
Claire studied Bobby silently for a long time, then turned back to the painting. He assumed this was his cue to leave and began to walk out of the Keep, stopping only when she spoke to him a final time, very softly.  
  
"I'll be leading a Lamaze session for Darien tonight at seven. I think it's about time his birthing coach showed up, don't you?"  
  
"Okay. If we get too deep into stuff you may have to postpone that... what'd you call it?"  
  
"Lamaze. You know, the course that teaches both partners what to expect during the delivery?"  
  
"Lemme guess. You had to shift things around a little?"  
  
"Eliminate whole sections and reinvent them is more like it."  
  
"Oughta be interestin'. Thanks, Claire."  
  
"Don't thank me. All I'm doing is letting you back in the house for a few hours. You still have the final gauntlet to battle through."  
  
"Even if I don't win....thanks for givin' me the chance to fight. I won't let you down again."  
  
"You'd damn well better not. Every new father makes mistakes, Bobby, I know that. You've had more than your share. Whatever happens....make tonight count."  
  
"Oh, yeah. No problem...."  
  
(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((  
  
"C'mon, Claire. You know this has been helpin' me lately. I need this now. Especially with what you told me yesterday."  
  
"I know, but you can last one more night. What I've arranged is... more important."  
  
"Fine. Okay. I give in. What is it?"  
  
Glancing from her watch to the door, Claire put him off.  
  
"It's a surprise. It should be here soon. Come and sit on the couch and rest."  
  
"Nah. I've rested too much today. Now I can't sit still."  
  
"Yes. I noticed during dinner. I was ready to tie you to your chair at one point, but it wouldn't have stopped you tapping your fingers or bouncing your knees and jiggling the table. Your blood sugar may be a little high. I'll do another blood draw tomorrow."  
  
"Man, when will I learn to keep my big mouth shut?"  
  
"A very good question. You don't have an answer, I assume, or you wouldn't have asked."  
  
"Ha, ha, ha. You're a real comedian tonight. Bravo."  
  
"It keeps me from sticking my head in the oven." She countered distractedly, repeating the cycle of watch, front door, watch, front door. The bell finally rang several minutes later. "Stay there. I'll get it." she told him, racing to the door to greet Bobby. "You're nearly fifteen minutes late!" she hissed.  
  
"Golda's still bein' tempremental. She was fine on the way in this mornin', but I think she knows I'm tryin' to fix it with Fawkes an'..."  
  
"Alright, alright, we don't exactly have time for another Bobby Hobbes fantasy journey far, far away from planet Earth and the dimension of rational thought. Just come in."  
  
"You had time for that sentence...."  
  
"Get in here, before I scrap this altogether!"  
  
"I'm in, I'm in."  
  
"Claire? Who is it? This surprise better be worth canceling my Lamaze class..." Darien groused, stepping into the foyer and ruining Claire's plan of starting the whole re-introduction slowly and cautiously. "I thought you said this was gonna be something I'd been wanting. I don't see anything I want."  
  
"Fawkes...."  
  
"No. Stop, Bobby." Claire interrupted, then spoke to Darien again. "I believe what I said was that the surprise would be something you wanted and *needed*. You're due to give birth in ten weeks, possibly less. I know you *want* to stop feeling so horribly and therefore you *need* to work this out with Bobby."  
  
"There's nothing he has that I give a damn about anymore. Get him out of my face." Darien spat before turning to leave the room. He would have succeeded if Claire hadn't had a solid grip on his arm.  
  
"Darien. You told me only this morning that it was not understanding, not knowing Bobby's reasoning that was tearing you apart. If that's true then why not set your dignity aside for a moment and let him explain? Just to listen.... that can't cause any more pain than you're already in."  
  
"No! No more chances! If he doesn't want anything to do with my child, I don't want anything to do with him!"  
  
"Hang on, just a minute, here partner! She's *our* child an' what I did had nothin'.... okay, it was partly about her, but I didn't skip town for two weeks 'cause I don't want her! I did it 'cause I do!"  
  
"Oh, yeah, that makes a whole lot of sense. You wanted to be with us, so you abandoned us...."  
  
"Okay, maybe that didn't come out right, but it's the truth.... an' just for the record I never abandoned anybody. I always intended to come back, but I needed time to think about stuff first...."  
  
"Always?! So you were planning your little escape before the day of the ultrasound?"  
  
"No! How could you.... I was so wrong. This isn't workin', Claire. It's all comin' out the opposite of what I wanna say.... I can't talk to him. I gotta get outta here..."  
  
"That's right! Go ahead and run away again! That's your way of dealing with everything..."  
  
Severely frustrated and troubled about the health of both Darien and the baby, Claire finally stepped in. Darien, fighting the cumulative effects of several shocks from Bobbi, took advantage of the break in the fight to lean against a wall and try to recover.  
  
"Alright, both of you stop! Bobby. I believed in you when we spoke this morning. I believed that you were committed to making things right again. I told you this wouldn't be easy. You said you were willing to fight to get back what you had. Was that a lie? Was it all just talking out of your ass? I trusted you, Robert. Don't make me out to be a fool for it."  
  
"I'm not tryin'.... I can't do this. It's wrong.... I'm wrong...."  
  
"If you really feel you have to leave, I won't stop you.... but don't ever come back."  
  
"I understand that. This isn't happenin' the way I wanted it to... I was so sure I could.... I'm just screwin' it up again like I always do. That's what I am. A life-long screw-up. It's gonna kill me and I'll never forgive myself for it.... but yeah, I'm gonna go."  
  
As Bobby turned to leave, Claire glowered silently at Darien, attempting, by sheer force of will, to get him to respond kindly to his partner's self-deprecating remarks.  
  
"What? He admitted somethin' everybody already knew. I'm supposed to applaud?"  
  
Shocked at the nasty tone in which the even nastier comment was spoken, Claire rounded on her charge, even while she maintained a firm grip on the sleeve of Bobby's jacket.  
  
"Darien Timothy Fawkes! That was unnecessarily cruel! Are you so proud of everything you've done in your life that you think you have the right to lord one mistake over Bobby for eternity? Are you now the national poster boy for perfection and wise choices? Granted, Bobby made a wrong decision but he was willing to come to you and admit it and try to make amends. I've seen your police record, Darien and compared to you Bobby qualifies for a post beside St. Peter at the Pearly Gates *and* a MENSA membership!"  
  
It took Fawkes several seconds to pick his jaw up off the carpet and register all Claire had said, but when he did his fury doubled. He was fully prepared to send all of it right back at her, but she infused her tone and her gaze with pure ice and arrested his impending tirade before he could begin it. "Not. One. Word. Go and sit down on the couch. You too, Bobby." She ordered, finally releasing him only to push him forward into the living room. When both men had complied, she continued her instructions. "I... am going out for an ice cream sundae.... possibly more than one, and two hours of peace and quiet. That's the time you have to begin to work this out between you. I expect some progress when I get back. Any amount will be acceptable. Two hours, boys." She repeated just before whirling on her heel and leaving the house.  
  
Left to their own devices, both fully aware that Claire meant every word, Darien and Bobby simply stared at each other off and on for the first few minutes, silently struggling for words. Darien found his tongue first.  
  
"So? I'm listening. Talk."  
  
"No."  
  
"No? That's all you have to say; no?"  
  
"I promised Claire I'd take what ever you felt like dishin' out before I tried to explain anything. She said I had to put you an' your feelin's first. I forgot to do that before. I'm sorry. So... if you got anything else stuck in your craw, let it out."  
  
"Nah. I guess... I got rid of all of it. You need to speak your piece, though. You need to say it... I need to hear it."  
  
"I know. I'll give it my best shot. That day at the hospital.... it's still kinda foggy for me. I only really remember bein' scared.... so scared I didn't know how to handle it. it wasn't until I got up to the mountains and had so much time on my own that I realized what I was scared *of*."  
  
Here, Bobby hesitated, unsure, even now that he was relatively calm, whether he posessed the words or imagery to make himself understood.  
  
"Keep goin'."  
  
"I'm tryin to sort it out... figure out how to say this so it won't hurt you any worse. I guess I just have to come right out with it. The first big thing that hit me up there was that she.... Bobbi was never real to me. Not all this time."  
  
"Not real? I don't understand what you mean. How could she not be real?"  
  
"You're carryin' her, you talk to her and she... talks back, in her own way. You feel her move from the inside.... that's real. To me... it sounds so awful, I know, but she was an idea to me. Just... an idea. Like 'I'm gonna have a kid' was the same as 'I think I'll have a salami sandwich for lunch.' When I heard her heartbeat.... that's when she went from idea to living breathing person. All these scary thoughts slammed into my head... it was too much to process an' all I could think to do was get away."  
  
"Scary thoughts... like what?"  
  
"God... I've been prayin' you'd tell me it was okay not to talk about this.... but you asked, I'll tell. You told me before that on the street you had to trust yourself first and everybody else a real distant second, no exceptions, or you could wind up dead. I never really got that. It's always been the opposite for me. It's been a long time since I trusted myself, Fawkes. Feels like a hundred years. You're not the only one with a demon, kid an' you're not the only one who uses a so-called "miracle of modern medicine" to keep it in its cage.  
  
I only remember some of what I was thinkin' just before I bolted outta that room.... I was seein' myself off the meds.... on the day when they don't do the job anymore an' there's nothin' to replace 'em.... I was thinkin' that if I can't trust or depend on me.... how can you an' Bobbi ever be expected to? I panicked, I lost it an' I grabbed the first assignment that would get me away for a while so I could calm down.... an' think. I'm not proud of what I did. It makes me ashamed an' sick to my stomach, in fact. I followed my gut instead of my heart... and I'm just so sorry."  
  
"Bobby.... how could you think I wouldn't understand? Every time I get a shot I'm one step closer to bein' immune to the counteragent.... I've felt the same way ever since we found out I was pregnant, man.... why couldn't you just talk to me?"  
  
"I thought if I did.... I'd be the one to get abandoned.... an' there's so much I've gotten used to.... things I can't live without anymore...."  
  
Reaching out, Darien cupped Bobby's cheek in one hand.  
  
"Tell me. Just say it. It's okay to say it..."  
  
"You can't know how I felt when Claire told me your nightmares were happenin' again... and worse than before.... I missed bein' able to do that for you... to be able to just... make contact... an' make you know it wasn't real..... that it's all gonna be alright. I missed hearin' your heartbeat start to slow back down the way it does when you're gettin' back to sleep. I need to feel Bobbi move again.... I need all that back in my life. Tell me I haven't lost it all... tell me one moment of bein' scared and stupid didn't screw this up forever. Please.... I don't know what else to say...."  
  
Sweeping tears from his partner's face with both hands, Darien gazed at Bobby somberly and answered his pleas with a single word.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"What?! No... don't do it.... I'll beg if you want... just don't throw me out....."  
  
"Bobby, no. It's okay. I meant you didn't have to say anymore. I accept what you said... an' I missed you too."  
  
The smile that blossomed on Bobby's face drew a similar one out of Darien as well as tears of his own. When Darien drew Bobby into his arms, the smaller man didn't resist or brush off the gesture as he had before. He simply let himself be enfolded, embraced and comforted, rejoicing over the only thought that he seemed able to hold onto just then.  
  
{I'm home..... I'm home.}  
  
A short while later, the two finally separated when Darien produced a more interesting thought to occupy Bobby's mind.  
  
"Hobbes?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I could really use an ice cream sundae about now."  
  
"Any sour cream an' onion chips in the house?"  
  
"Not that I know of."  
  
"I'm in."  
  
(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( ((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((  
  
TBC.......... In case you're wondering about the quote at the top, e-mail me and I'll give you the scoop. It's really a pretty cool story. Very short, but cool. vg68@msn.com 


	16. Week 28: Eighth Month-Part 1

Week 28: Eighth Month  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
DUET  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
'As humans, we're inclined to pair up with other humans; emotionally, biologically, intellectually and in every other way you can think of. Necessity begets friendship, which, often regardless of gender, can evolve into love and sex, at which point we're back to necessity again. Communication, response, interaction. It's a craving built into all of us from day one; a craving one can safely indulge with (usually) only pleasant side effects.'  
  
Tariv Ginck-- *Beings Together: The Art and Architecture of Love*  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
MONDAY  
  
"She's.... what? Tell me that again and if I hear the same thing this time.... I hope to hell you have your track shoes on..."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. Dr. Rendell is... gone. We don't know how."  
  
"Gone as in dead? You are saying she's dead, aren't you?"  
  
"I am if that's what you want me to say, sir."  
  
"What I want... is a rational explanation for how someone who was supposed to be restrained *and* heavily sedated 24/7 could have vanished from under your noses!"  
  
"As I said, sir.... we don't know. When the day shift guard came down this morning to relieve the night man.... he found him like this."  
  
The Official glanced at the profoundly disturbing amount of gore a few feet from Liz Rendell's cell then quickly looked away again, trying not to let nausea overwhelm him a second time. He dragged his quailing security chief into the hall and out of sight of the body to continue the conversation.  
  
"Why hasn't this been... taken care of yet?"  
  
"The forensic team is on their way, sir."  
  
"There's more. I can hear it in your voice. Give it to me and make it fast."  
  
"The body of Dr. Arnaud is also missing, sir. Before leaving, the prisoner apparently managed to get down to the morgue.... and stole the corpse."  
  
"But he'd already been..."  
  
"Embalmed. Yes, sir."  
  
Grimacing, the Official closed his eyes and fought down the contents of his stomach again. Raising a hand to his forehead he attempted to massage away an onrushing headache, despite knowing nothing could stop it at that point.  
  
"Does the morgue crew look like... that?"  
  
"Luckily, noone was there at the time. That poor man was the only one killed."  
  
"Do you actually mean to tell me.... that there were no guards.... none whatsoever... on such a valuable piece of evidence?"  
  
"He was dead, sir. Since all the testing was concluded and there was no possibility of escape, it was thought..."  
  
"I can't believe how *little* thought actually went into this operation. I can't believe I'm standing here talking about this...."  
  
"Sir.... I... we all deeply regret that mistakes were made, but...."  
  
"Forget it. Get forensics in here and get this cleaned up. Then clean out your own things."  
  
"I'm fired, sir?"  
  
"You expect to keep you job after a debacle like this? You're.... you were the head of security for this building. Obviously you can't do the job. Damn right, you're fired, but not before you finish with this. I want this area spotless and disinfected when the investigative team is done."  
  
"Yes, sir. I'll inform the janitorial crew..."  
  
"No. I said not before *you* finish it and I meant you. For the remainder of your last day as an employee of this agency, *you're* the janitorial crew. Spotless and disinfected, remember. I'll expect you to report to me when it's done. I'm sure something else will need mopping or scrubbing by then."  
  
"Yes, sir. I... understand completely, sir."  
  
"Good."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Gone? How can she be gone? That ain't possible! I saw 'em puttin' her in those restraints. Houdini couldn't get out of those things!"  
  
"Nevertheless, Hobbes, she did and she took her husband with her."  
  
"Husband.... Ahhhh, crap. You can't mean... she stole his body? How deranged can you get?!" Darien groaned.  
  
"I don't disagree. The theory is that she wanted to be caught, that she was even willing to give up his notes on the gland in order to have a chance at retrieving Arnaud's.... mortal remains. She's going to be much harder to take down this time, which is why I'm assigning all three of you."  
  
"Three? Oh, no. I'm not workin' with Monroe again. She's been actin' weird around me lately. She spilled the little white lie you gave her, by the way. Cancer? Lame city, boss. I told her the truth an' ever since she's been all freaky when we're even in the same room. No way. No way it could work with all three of us. I'm not even sure I'm up for this right now..."  
  
{So that's how she knew about the baby before I put her to work on our 'special project'. I'll have to talk to Agent Monroe about keeping secrets from me....}  
  
"It worked before the pregnancy, it will work now. You'll all have to adjust and figure out how to give each other respect and space. You three are a great team. I need all of you on this."  
  
"Sir, Fawkes is right. This just ain't gonna fly..."  
  
"You'll make it fly, Agent Hobbes. Unless you both want your wings clipped, that is. When we get the intel on where Rendell can be found, you'll be informed. Until then, you're dismissed."  
  
Both men considered pushing the issue, but a glance at each other and they held their tongues, stalking disgustedly out of the office.  
  
"Damn. Couldn't be a worse time for this to happen. You bein' so close an' all...."  
  
"I'll be fine, Bobby. I can handle this one last assignment. I wouldn't feel safe unless I knew she was in custody or dead anyway. For my own peace of mind, I wanna be in on this."  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"Positive. You've got your beeper, right?"  
  
"Yeah. Right here. Why? You feel like gettin' away for a couple hours?"  
  
"That and we really need to jump on this apartment hunting thing. Not a whole lotta time left."  
  
"Crap! With all we've been goin' through the past few weeks, I forgot all about that. Yesterday's paper is in my office. Let's go there an' look at the listings first, see if anything in our price range appeals."  
  
"Yeah. Okay. I gotta use the men's room first. Gimme a second."  
  
"That's the third time in, like, five hours. I thought you got past this."  
  
"So did I, but it's back. Sucks, too. I'll only be a few minutes. Wait for me?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
When Darien re-emerged, he and Bobby stepped into the elevator and headed upstairs. They spent the better part of an hour staring at ads for apartments, circling some, ignoring others and scratching out the ones that had looked promising at first but proved disappointing when they called the phone numbers.  
  
"Hey. Check this out." Bobby suddenly announced, pointing at an ad. When Darien leaned closer to read it for himself, Bobby felt an ear to ear smile and a blush try to take command of his face simultaneously, but he continued speaking, praying both would go away. "A two bedroom apartment, new appliances, full bath.... an' it's only a few blocks away from work. $575 a month! That's incredible. We can do that between the two of us. Should we go check it out?"  
  
"Why not? Sounds okay to me. Call first though. Somethin' like this is either too good to be true or it's been snapped up already."  
  
"Right. Your turn."  
  
"Oh. Okay."  
  
The call was made and, to the delight of both men, sounded as if it would pan out this time. Gathering their jackets, they left to meet with the realtor and see for themselves if the apartment was as terrific as the paper and the woman on the phone wanted it to seem.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"I'm barely off the plane, I'm tired, cranky, starving and horny. I'm allowed to complain about an emergency page. Do you expect me to sing 'God save the Official' or Hail to the Chief' or something? I don't personally have the energy to boost your ego right now, but I'm sure there's a marching band or some cheerleaders around here somewhere. Every other man, woman and child in San Diego seems to be in this damn airport today...."  
  
"Agent Monroe. I wouldn't have paged you if it wasn't vital. All hell's broken loose down here and I want you back ASAP."  
  
"Hell? No, sir. Hell is standing in a grungy terminal and talking on a phone that smells like two dollar wine and is probably crawling with TB and strep, while trying to protect my luggage from thieves and my ass from the ten people standing in line behind me, glaring and frowning as if their nasty looks will get me to talk a little faster."  
  
"If it's so terrible, hang up and get back here."  
  
"I'll be there after I shower, change, say hello and goodbye to a brand new fifth of JD and devour a couple plates of pasta and half a chocolate cake."  
  
"I said we need you here. Do not go home; don't even stop in the ladies room. Just get to the Agency, now."  
  
"Look, I agree with your thoughts on this.... situation and I'm willing to do pretty much whatever is necessary. Pretty much doesn't mean anything and everything and it *certainly* doesn't mean you control every move I make. I need a shower, a drink, chocolate and a man, in that order. I might be in late this afternoon. Of course, I might not be in until morning if I can manage to cram the man and the chocolate into one step...."  
  
"Liz Rendell escaped and she took Arnaud with her."  
  
"Oh, really? Scratch that. I'll be in some time next year."  
  
"Agent Monroe...."  
  
"Fine, fine. Make it late this afternoon."  
  
"That will have to do, I suppose."  
  
"It's eleven now. I should be able to make it by five."  
  
"I'll be waiting."  
  
"I'm sure you will be."  
  
"You have the transcripts of all the information you've gathered?"  
  
"In my bags somewhere. If the whiskey doesn't hit me too hard, I'll dig them out and bring it all with me and yes, before you say it, I'll take a cab there and a cab home."  
  
"Perceptive as always. See you at five, Agent Monroe."  
  
"I'll try damn hard, but if I find a Chilean soccer player and a jar of raspberry hot fudge I'm not guaranteeing anything." She told him and slammed the phone back into its cradle.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
Just shy of five-o'clock, Darien and Bobby stood in the main living space of the only apartment they'd been at all hopeful about. After informing the realtor that they were going to look at one or two other possibilities first, both of which had been as disappointing as they'd feared, they had met her on the front walk of this place only a half hour before. In contrast, both men had fallen in love the minute they walked in the door to begin their third tour of the day.  
  
"I can't believe this, Bobby. It's fantastic. Hardwood floors in the living room, ceramic tile in the kitchen, wall-to-wall carpet in the bedrooms.... an' the ad said apartment, but it's the whole ground floor of the house! They can't be askin' only $575 a month for this!"  
  
"I asked twice an' she said that's all the owners want. They're pretty well off so the rent ain't likely to go up any time soon. This was space they weren't gonna use so they decided to rent it out. We're not gonna find anything better, Fawkes. I think this is it."  
  
"But do you like it?"  
  
"Hell, yeah. It's great. It'll be the most high-class place I ever lived in my life. Did you see that big room off the kitchen? They used it as a sewin' room or somethin' I think, but it'd make a perfect art studio for you. Lotsa natural light, lotsa space for storin' supplies an all...."  
  
"Yeah? Maybe. The smaller bedroom would make a great nursery, don't you think?"  
  
"After a while, yeah."  
  
"What do you mean, after a while?"  
  
"I don't know. I was just thinkin'...."  
  
"We said no more bottling stuff up, Bobby. Tell me."  
  
Since the night that they'd started the healing of their relationship, those two words had begun to have an effect on Hobbes he never thought any words would have. Just hearing Darien say them made him feel as if a heating pad had been wrapped around his heart. They made him want to start with his first conscious memory as an infant and just keep talking until nothing was left to say. He no longer feared that anything he might tell Darien would be rejected or ridiculed and that knowledge, he'd discovered, left him anything but speechless.  
  
"I know I have to pass it by you first.... but I think it's a better idea to keep her crib in your room for the first few months. I'd feel a lot better, an' so would she probably, knowin' she's not alone. She'll be safer, too if you're with her. I can use the smaller bedroom 'till we think she's ready to be on her own then I'll move to a sofa-bed out here in the living room."  
  
When he saw hurt in Darien's' eyes, Bobby moved immediately to determine what he'd done to cause it. "What? What'd I say?"  
  
"Not as much as I'm making it out to be, I guess. It was the separate rooms thing. The idea about waiting to put the baby in her own room is okay with me. Just.... after what you said last week... what you missed about bein' home...."  
  
"Oh. Oh, crap.... I didn't mean.... I just know I still have a long way to go to make up for my mistake. I figured it could be a while before you might want.... before you were ready to let me be that close to you again. I didn't wanna assume we'd be sharin' one room... and piss you off again. It sucks when you're pissed off at me."  
  
"Sucks to be you when I'm pissed off." Darien joked back. "You're right. We do have a lot of miles to go yet.... but I spent fifteen nights alone, Bobby. Fifteen nights without anybody there when I clawed my way out of my nightmares. Fifteen nights lyin' awake wonderin' how in hell I was supposed to get back to sleep by myself. Scared, lonely, bone-tired, confused.... it was a rotten, cruddy place to be. I need you there as much as you need to be there, Hobbes. I need you to drive away the bad dreams, I need you in the delivery room.... I just need you."  
  
Darien opened his arms and Bobby eagerly moved into his embrace. The two huddled together for a long time, sharing comfort and continuing to renew and strengthen the threads of a precious bond that had come so close to being broken beyond repair.  
  
"Are you sayin' I've spoiled you, Fawkes?"  
  
"I wouldn't want it any other way."  
  
"Me neither. Wait a minute.... the delivery room?" Hobbes repeated, pulling back a little to give Darien a skeptical look.  
  
"You are my birthing coach, Bobby. You're gonna be with me for the C- section, right?"  
  
"Well... I know I'm supposed to... you know me an' blood, Fawkes. I can't  
  
band-aid my own paper cuts without gettin' nauseous..."  
  
"It's okay. We'll talk about that when it gets closer. For now.... are we takin' the apartment?"  
  
"Yeah." Bobby agreed, looking around the main room once more as he and Darien separated finally. "I really like the place. It's got a huge backyard, fenced in even. The price is great. It's perfect."  
  
"We've got ourselves a home, Bobby. You, me and Bobbi with an i.... we have a home."  
  
{I found my home a long time ago, partner. Pretty much the day we met. Can't believe I was so blind and so stupid for so long....} Bobby told himself, grinning softly at the thought that the empty space that surrounded them would not be so empty in, hopefully, a little under nine weeks. He saw himself opening the front door and holding it as Darien entered with their tiny daughter in his arms. He saw them walking side by side to the larger bedroom where Bobbi's bassinet, crib and other furniture would stay, for a while at least, and gazing down at the baby as she slept.  
  
He could see all of them living and growing in this place together, and the feeling of rightness that brought him set his mind irrevocably.  
  
"Yeah. Home. This is a good place, partner. I can feel it. We're meant to have it. Let's go find that real estate lady an' get those papers started, huh?"  
  
"Good idea. Then can we go get ice cream?"  
  
"What is it with you an' ice cream all of a sudden?"  
  
"It's not exactly sudden. Blame Claire and the fudgesicles."  
  
"Man, that seems like years ago. You bawlin' in the men's room.... me crackin' the plaster with my skull 'cause I had no clue how to make you stop. I wasn't sure we'd get this far."  
  
"None of us were, Bobby. We made it through a hell of a lot. Now we just gotta make it past the Fat Man and the delivery."  
  
"Neither one's gonna exactly be a cake-walk."  
  
"I know. But between you an' me.... I've been dyin' for my chance to knock Charlie Borden an' the rest of world on their collective asses an' show all of 'em just how amazing I can be. You in?"  
  
"Past my eyeballs and goin' down for the third time." Bobby replied, the 'everybody duck, bullets flying and bad guys frying, here's Johnny' grin that Darien loved so much plastered on his face for the world to see. His eyes told a different story. What Darien found there he could only label pure contentment and peace and it made his heart stutter for a fraction of a second. He had never seen anything remotely like those emotions in Bobby's eyes or anywhere within ten feet of him. The difference was like the moon finally rising, illuminating and transforming a night that had been dark and desolate for too long. Suddenly, he saw what Bobby should always look like, would if he had anything to say about it. In Bobby's eyes Darien now saw delight, so much that it spilled over and infected him as well, and a fire he would willingly dedicate his life to igniting over and over again. "Fawkes. You okay?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. I'm really good. Home ownership here we come."  
  
"Amen an' hallelujah."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"We said five. It's quarter to six."  
  
"You said five, not me. I wouldn't be here at all if the L.A. Galaxy wasn't out of town."  
  
"You don't act drunk."  
  
"I never do, even when I am, but for the record all I had in the house was cooking sherry and I'm not that desperate, even after a day like this. I ended up buying a candy bar on the way over, but that won't hold me for long, so can we get this over with?"  
  
"The transcripts?"  
  
"Right here." Alex said, tossing them on the desk. You won't like my final conclusions. I had to force myself to type them out and still got sick to my stomach three times in the process."  
  
As the Official flipped through to the end of the report and read those conclusions, he began to feel nauseous himself.  
  
"I see why. You'll stand behind this?"  
  
"Unfortunately. The second and third candidates were worse than the first. They were no better than the cosmetic research labs that still use animals in their testing. Instead of blind rabbits it was crying, permanently mutilated kids. It reminded me of those images from the Romanian orphanages that were all over T.V. years ago."  
  
"But your opinion of the first candidate hasn't changed?"  
  
"No, but in that case I had no concrete evidence any of the children were being mentally or physically abused. It was just a.... bad feeling. Out of the three, if I was under the gun to choose, they'd be it."  
  
"You're certain."  
  
"Yeah. The only other option I can see is to call Stark, and you know damn well if I find out you ever even considered that, Fawkes won't have a chance to kill you for pulling this little scam. I'll do it for him."  
  
"Understood. It never entered my mind. Alright. Your report is accepted, conclusions and all. I'll make the.... congratulatory call first thing tomorrow morning." The Official replied quietly, stuffing the reports in a drawer.  
  
"Okay, what's going on with you? You act as if you don't want this to happen. You're the one who told me that a child would only distract both Fawkes and Hobbes from their work. You said work comes first, before anything, and I agreed on both counts. Are you getting cold feet all of a sudden?"  
  
"No. Of course not. Our work has to be priority number one. Nothing can be allowed to supersede that. I need Fawkes focused on the purpose he was sent here for; using the QS gland to the benefit of this Agency and his country. This child is nothing more than an unfortunate mistake and mistakes can be erased. Any misgivings I have about the placement of said child.... I'll get past."  
  
"Yes, sir. I guess if you can deal with the aftermath and the fall- out so can I. Is it alright if I go home and get plastered now?"  
  
"Absolutely. I'll see you on Wednesday, then?"  
  
"Somewhere around there. Night." Alex called back over her shoulder as she left.  
  
"Good-night Agent Monroe."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Hobbes. What is that?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"On the radio. What *is* that music?"  
  
"Oh. Did I leave it on that station? Sorry. I was flippin' the dial this mornin' an' I heard a song that caught my attention for a minute.... I guess I tuned out and just forgot it was on there." Hobbes said, reaching out to spin the dial. "Tuned out. I made a joke." he chuckled nervously.  
  
"Bobby. That was country music. You told me once that you'd rather let the Fat Man sit on you for an hour while Eberts read from a stock ticker than listen to country."  
  
"Nothin's changed. It was the song. That's all. I liked the song."  
  
"Yeah? What exactly was this song about?"  
  
"I don't know. It was one of those... romantic ones, I guess. The words were.... interestin'. They made me stop an' listen, but then it went back to all that drawl an' twang an sturm an' drang, ya know? Like they always do? I killed the volume an' forgot all about it. There we go. Much better." He announced when he hit on a classic rock station. Both men were soon distracted by a well-known Led Zeppelin tune and they mutually rocked out most of the way back to Claire's. Just as they pulled up, however, Darien's beeper produced its own tune, also well known but far less beloved than the music the radio was blasting out.  
  
"He only wants us to call."  
  
"Good. I wanna tell Claire the news."  
  
"Okay. You tell her, I'm goin' to the bathroom."  
  
"Again? You're repressin' somethin' awful, Fawkes."  
  
"The word is regressing." Darien called over his shoulder as he made his way into the house.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the language lesson, Mr. 'I'm-a-walkin'- reference library'." Bobby shot back as he followed his partner in.  
  
By the time Darien emerged from the rest-room several minutes later, Bobby was still on the phone with the Official.  
  
"Yeah. Okay. Yeah. We do? Cool. Thank you, sir. Oh. Of course. Good- bye."  
  
"So what's he want at this time of day? Can't be anything good."  
  
"Usually I'd be with you on that, but this time it's only half nasty. Alex is back, but she plans to spend the night getting blotto and laid in that order, so we have tomorrow off. He doesn't expect to get any useful intel before Wednesday anyway."  
  
"Alright! I can really use a whole day off my feet."  
  
"You plan on doing any more painting tomorrow?"  
  
"Maybe. Not ones like I've been doin' lately, that's for sure.... but maybe. Be a good time for it, I guess. Why?"  
  
"Can I... would it be okay if I hung out and watched.... like I did with the highchair?"  
  
"Yeah. I wouldn't mind. It's okay with me if you watch."  
  
"Thanks. It makes me feel.... I don't know, special to be close to you when you paint. Me an' arts an' crafts are like oil an' water, so...."  
  
"Trust me, Bobby, you have a lot of other gifts. Too many for me to count. So many it takes my breath away, sometimes. You make me laugh, you make me mad, you keep me from goin' crazy when I'm about to lose it, you *get* me crazy when I need that energy to just make it through a day.... you're a gift all by yourself. Just Bobby."  
  
"Fawkes.... damn. What am I supposed to say to somethin' like that?" Bobby asked, his words nearly choked off before he could get them out.  
  
"Nothing. Take it at face value, the way I meant it, I guess and come help me make dinner."  
  
Bobby struggled a few more seconds then pulled himself together and joined his partner walking to the kitchen.  
  
"We've got some of that ham left over.... an' some sharp cheese too. A chef's salad maybe?"  
  
"Main course or just the salad?"  
  
"Main course."  
  
"I can get behind that...."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"You haven't told them? I understand your fears, but they have to be told. You did say the doctor agrees with me on this, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes. I suppose I'm out-voted, then."  
  
"Don't sound so gloomy, Albert. It's for the best. He's in his eighth month already. They deserve to be involved in the salvation of their own child, if anyone does."  
  
"I know you're right. They've just been through a very rough patch. I hate to drop this bomb on them right now."  
  
"Do it as gently as possible, but do it soon. They can't fight back against an enemy they don't know about."  
  
"Of course. Have I thanked you for the support and the work you're doing to help me on this?"  
  
"Numerous times. I'm glad I was able to help."  
  
"You're sure noone on your end knows anything about what you've done? If they found out you're helping to sabotage the deal...."  
  
"I've done it before. It's nothing new to me. I couldn't let this happen when I had an opportunity to prevent it. I simply couldn't. Keep your spirits up, Albert. I won't be able to call for a few days. They've been keeping me busy lately. The usual thing, you know. I think they've moved beyond frustration and into the realms of apoplexy, and I'm not helping much at all. Purposefully of course."  
  
"Here's to a Oscar caliber performance."  
  
"Do I ever give any less?"  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC........ I just realized what a colossal continuity error I made in chapter fifteen. Alex is in the office there, but I don't have her coming off the plane until this chapter. I already slapped myself in the forehead and did the "Boy, am I a – insert multiple synonyms of idiot here—" routine. It has been fixed on my end and will soon be changed on yours. Love, peace and chocolate covered soccer players to ya'll. 


	17. Week 28: Part Two

Week 28:Eighth Month- cont.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
(One or two bad words toward the end. You have been warned!)  
  
DUET- PART TWO  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TUESDAY NIGHT  
  
"Fawkes, do we have to do this? It's been a really great day so far. This is gonna kill every bit of relaxation I managed to cram in today."  
  
"You don't have to be here, Bobby. I'd really like it if you stayed, but I understand. I know how squeamish you are. You can go listen to music or something."  
  
"Squeamish.... that's not the right word.... exactly. It's just... hearin' her talk about the surgery..."  
  
"I need to do this. I can't walk in blind not knowin' what's gonna happen. Like I said, I understand if you can't handle it. Claire did say it could get graphic. I'm not tryin' to reverse psych you into anything, Hobbes. If you have to go, go."  
  
Bobby thought deeply about the situation for several seconds before he knew what he should do. Gathering himself, he straightened his back and looked Darien in the eye.  
  
"Forget it. I'm not lettin' you face this or anything else alone. Never again. Just... lemme go get the bottle of pink stuff an' I'll be right with you."  
  
"Good idea. I might need a swig myself before this is over. Bring it to the living room. We'll wait for you."  
  
A few minutes later, Claire's students were sitting together, clutching a surgical textbook and trying very hard not to show their discomfort, listening intently as  
  
she began to speak.  
  
"Understand that I'm not well versed in this and that text you're looking at was, of course, written with a woman's anatomy in mind..... What I've learned through my research is that, barring complications with mother or child, a C-section is usually a fairly straight-forward, simple procedure. First off you'll be given medicine that will dry your mouth and throat quite a bit and I.V. fluids and medications of course. Then your abdomen will be washed and shaved and an antiseptic applied. Oh dear. This is the part I've been dreading telling you."  
  
"Worse than cutting me open? What could possibly be worse?"  
  
"Well.... in order to keep your bladder empty a catheter will have to be inserted... and being male.... I'm afraid there's only one way for that to happen."  
  
To his credit, and also to his horror, Darien got the point fairly quickly.  
  
"You mean.... a tube up my..... somebody's gonna put a.... ohhh, crap...."  
  
Bobby caught on just then and turned as white as his partner, but both soon recovered and pulled their faces out of the couch cushions. Knowing that if they could handle that, they could withstand hearing the rest, Claire continued.  
  
"I'll be giving you a spinal block, Darien so you won't feel anything. Once the screen is in place you won't see anything either."  
  
Grabbing a wooden pencil off the coffee table, she demonstrated the next part of her instruction. "Now, as to the incision there are two possibilities, depending on how much concern there is about scarring, whether the child has turned into an awkward position and so on. The surgeon can either make the initial incision vertically.... or horizontally, which is much more common. Once that's done, he cuts through the muscles of the abdominal wall and through the uterus to reach the child. We'll have to be much more careful with you because there isn't a uterine structure per se, just your muscles and the baby. I'm working that little glitch into my surgical plan. Where was I?  
  
Oh, yes. The amniotic sac is opened allowing the fluid to escape. Again there will be a slight difference, as the Quicksilver placenta should immediately destabilize somewhat once air touches it. My hands being in the middle of it should do the rest of the job. At that point the child is lifted free of the mother's body. You'll feel some pulling and pressure, but there shouldn't be any pain. The doctor severs the umbilical, though of course the father has the option of cutting it as well, and the wound is secured with either staples or non-absorbent stitches. The catheter comes out six to eight hours after surgery, the stitches three to four days later and that's it. As I said, straight-forward and simple."  
  
When she looked up from her notes, Claire found both men chugging alternately from the bottle of neon pink nausea remedy. "Are you two alright?"  
  
"Are you done?" Darien asked weakly.  
  
"Yes, pretty much."  
  
"Then we're okay. We will be."  
  
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you did insist..."  
  
"I did. It's okay, Claire. I... I needed to get straight in my head exactly how this is gonna go. Now for the really important question. Do I get to be knocked out cold for this whole thing?"  
  
"Not generally, no. If something goes wrong during the procedure we need you at least partially awake and aware so you can tell us what's happening."  
  
"Just like before...." Darien mumbled, his gaze distant and unfocused, as if his thoughts were on another time and place.  
  
"What's that mean, Fawkes? You said you didn't remember any of that. You said you were so doped up you were seein' pink wombats an' fairies with rainbow colored hair."  
  
"I didn't remember for a long time. Snatches, voices once in a while. Lately.... they're clearer than they used to be. That's all"  
  
Swiftly, Claire moved to sit beside her charge and wrapped an arm around him.  
  
"I'm so sorry. We did everything we could to make sure you'd remember little or nothing about that awful day. Brain surgery isn't easy in normal circumstances, but..."  
  
"I did forget. I hardly ever thought about it... 'till all this brought it back again. I'll deal. I have to focus on Hobbes an' the baby right now, not a bunch of half faded memories from a lifetime ago. When were you thinkin' of scheduling this thing for, anyway?"  
  
"I'd prefer to wait until you're thirty-eight weeks. The baby should be fully developed and ready to be born by then. I'll be doing more frequent ultra-sounds from week thirty onwards, just to keep closer tabs. If it looks like we can move the procedure up a bit or if we need to delay it for any reason, I'll know. You'll spend the night before surgery in the Agency's medical facilities so I can monitor you and if all goes as planned, by noon the next day you'll be holding your little girl in your arms."  
  
Darien gazed at his hands for a long moment then grimaced and shook himself, trying to force away disturbing thoughts of past, present and future.  
  
"Ugh. At least now I know what's what. Thanks, Claire."  
  
"No problem. Glad I could help."  
  
"Time to put this stuff away for a while. I need a fudgesicle. How about you two?"  
  
"Oh, absolutely."  
  
"Yeah, anything sweet'll do in a pinch, but a chocolate pop sounds really good."  
  
"Come on into the kitchen, boys, and I'll fix you up."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
WEDNESDAY MORNING  
  
"You can't be serious, Fawkes! You haven't told your aunt *or* your grandma?!"  
  
Darien leaned against the wall outside the Official's office, crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the floor.  
  
"What am I supposed to say when they ask who the mother is? What do I say when they ask to meet her? I'm takin' magic lessons an' I had a little accident during the saw-the-lady-in-half trick?"  
  
"What're they gonna say when you drag a baby carrier into the middle of their livin' rooms?"  
  
Darien averted his eyes and refused to answer. "Damn. You weren't ever plannin' on sayin' anything to 'em, were you? What are you thinkin'? They're the only blood family you got left, Darien."  
  
"You forgot my dad."  
  
"That was on purpose. He gave up his rights to be in your life. The other two, though..... they did their best for you. They have a right to see Bobbi."  
  
"I could never explain it, Hobbes. It'll all turn out a big mess, I know it."  
  
"We'll make up a story. You want me to call? I'll do it if that'd be easier..."  
  
Eberts poked his head out of the office and the conversation ended abruptly.  
  
"Gentlemen? The Official is ready to see you, now."  
  
"We'll finish this later, Fawkes."  
  
"Not if I have anything to say about it." Darien grumbled, struggling to stand straight then preceding Bobby into the office.  
  
"Yeah, well you don't." Bobby replied as he shut the door behind him and moved to take his usual seat close to his partner. The baby chose that moment to begin flipping pages in Darien's mental family album, so he tuned out the Official's voice, knowing Bobby would catch him up afterwards.  
  
As pictures rotated slowly through his head, he put names or titles under them for her, not knowing if she'd understand but unwilling to underestimate her on any front. When the image of his father showed up, he studied it momentarily then, with a heavy heart and a great deal of repressed anger, visualized himself covering the picture with black marker, ripping it into tiny pieces and burning the fragments in a fireplace.  
  
Bobbi sent him a series of question marks and accompanied them with a frenzy of shifts of position and soft kicks and punches.  
  
"Hey, chill out, kid." Darien whispered to her. "I can't explain it, okay? You'll understand when you grow up. I wish you didn't have to.... gettin' your heart broken hurts like hell, but that's just the way it is."  
  
"Excuse me, Agent Fawkes. If you're done, can I continue?"  
  
"Noone's stoppin' you are they? Go ahead."  
  
"You haven't heard anything I've said in the past twenty minutes, have you?"  
  
"Sorry, no. Something more important came up."  
  
"Right now, nothing is more important than this briefing. Nothing. Are you back with us in this end of the cosmos?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm here, but not for much longer." he announced, rising slowly to his feet and exiting the office. Hobbes rose slightly out of his seat, intending to follow, but he caught a barely noticeable head shake from Eberts and sat back down. Eberts left to find the escapee. He found him a short distance down the hall.  
  
"Darien? Oh, there you are. Are you alright?"  
  
"Better now. Sometimes.... I just really wanna smack him across the room."  
  
"Yes, well, I'm extremely glad you waited until you were out here to say that. You have to be very, very careful, Darien. There are dangers surrounding you that you simply don't comprehend. You need to pay more attention... or this could all end very badly."  
  
"All? All what? You mean the pregnancy? What do you know that I don't, Eberts? If you say nothin', I'll smack *you* across a room instead."  
  
"At this point, I'm not certain I don't deserve it. I only know a few things, but it's knowledge you need to have. May I come and visit you and Robert tonight after dinner?"  
  
"Before dinner."  
  
"Are you sure? I don't want to intrude..."  
  
"It's okay. I'll throw more rice in the steamer, add a couple extra pieces of chicken to the cacciatore. No big deal."  
  
"I'm glad to hear your confidence in the kitchen hasn't waned. Claire informed me of her struggles to take you and Robert from grilled cheese to cheese soufflé. It was quite humorous."  
  
"Way after the fact, maybe. Somewhere in the middle of that week I think she was ready to shove *us* in the oven. I hope chicken, rice and a Caesar salad is okay. I already got the menu planned out an' shopped for...."  
  
"Oh, yes. Cacciatore is actually one of my favorite dishes. Darien. As I said, you need to be supremely careful of your footing right now. I know it will be a blow to your pride, but you really need to come back in. You might even consider apologizing for having left so abruptly."  
  
"You almost sound scared, Ebes. The Fish is that uptight about the baby?"  
  
"There's so much I should have told you before it got this bad. You don't know... Let's just say the answer is yes and leave it there until tonight, if you don't mind. Coming?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming. Right behind you."  
  
Just as the two were poised to re-enter the office, Alex strolled out past them, a self-satisfied smile on her face.  
  
"Forget it, Fawkes. Meeting adjourned. Hope Hobbes is as good at taking notes as he is at running from his responsibilities."  
  
Snarling, Darien moved to follow and confront Alex on the comment, but both Bobby and Eberts held him back.  
  
"Not now, buddy. She's tryin' to get you riled. Don't let her."  
  
"He's right, Darien. Try not to let Agent Monroe provoke you into a fight that could be dangerous to your health and the baby's."  
  
"I know, but she can be such a witch.... after the birth, *then* can I hurt her?"  
  
"We'll see." Eberts replied, smiling lightly.  
  
"C'mon, partner. Let's go see Claire. Before we hit the strategy session you need your engine checked an' your fluids topped off."  
  
"For God's sake Hobbes, I'm a human being, not a Buick!" Darien shot back as he trailed Bobby down the hall toward the Keep.  
  
"You both need regular maintenance. What's the difference?"  
  
"Ooooh. One a'these days, Alice.... POW! Right in the kisser!"  
  
Eberts watched the pair move off then pulled out his cell phone.  
  
"Alpha gamma blue 24378. The password is right hand man. Good morning, Agent Sanders. Your duties there are completed. You and your partner are to come straight back here and report to me for reassignment. Yes, I know, but the Official has decided that surveillance on the Keeper's home is a waste of manpower. She's quite able to adequately supervise him while he's on the premises. He's shown no tendency to run off at odd hours or make impromptu escape attempts down the drainpipe has he? Alright, then. Half an hour. Very good."  
  
Slipping his cell back into his pocket, Eberts allowed himself a small grin and even began to hum softly as he turned and walked toward his office to take care of whatever paperwork had found its way onto his desk over the course of the morning.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
It took twice as long to travel the distance to the Keep as it normally would have due to Darien deliberately dragging his feet. Eventually, Bobby got behind him and pushed. While Claire made sure Darien's vital signs were all acceptable and took a blood sample, Bobby brought his partner up to date on what he'd missed of the meeting.  
  
"So their best guess is the modem connection she's been using is in a hotel on the strip in Vegas."  
  
"Back to Vegas? What is it with these two and that town?"  
  
"Don't know, don't have to know. Our job is just to go in, drag her back and lock her up again."  
  
"It didn't work before. They don't even know how she got out, so how can they stop her from doin' it a second time?"  
  
"Tighter security, stronger drugs. Plus Arnaud's.... remains'll be stored somewhere else. Take away Arnaud, take away her incentive to bust out."  
  
" 'A hotel on the strip' is pretty vague. How much can they cut it down for us?"  
  
"A three block radius."  
  
"Still a lot of ground to cover, even for three of us."  
  
"That's the best the techies could do. He doin' okay, Claire?"  
  
"In all cases but one, yes. Your blood pressure's a bit high, Darien. Not dangerously so, but it has me concerned. You did say this will be your final assignment until the baby's born?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And you don't leave until tomorrow?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"Good. I'll see that you get an extra yoga session tonight and I'll extend your massage a few minutes. Oh, and no cacciatore for you."  
  
"What? You can't do that. I've been lookin' forward to this for days..."  
  
"It's high in sodium, too much of which can exacerbate even mild hypertension. Salad and rice only."  
  
"Man, you can really be a thrill-kill sometimes."  
  
"I'm doing my job. If occasionally raining on your parade means a better chance for a healthy baby and a healthy you, then call me Hurricane Claire."  
  
"That's the nicest thing I can think to call you...." Darien grumbled.  
  
"Yes, I'm certain it is. Other than that one potential trouble spot, you're fine. You can go."  
  
"I'll watch him close, Keepie. No salt at all for the rest of the day. Let's go, Fawkes. We're supposed to meet Monroe upstairs in ten minutes."  
  
"Great. Out of the fryin' pan, into the cauldron. This day couldn't get much worse."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
Only a few minutes into their three-way strategy session, Darien found himself hard-pressed to keep his hands from curling around Alex's neck. Every other sentence was a caustic comment or an insult aimed at Bobby and Fawkes had finally reached a breaking point.  
  
"Okay, Monroe. I'm done listening to this. Say one more stupid, spiteful, nasty word and you're goin' off the roof head first. No parachute, no bungee. Just whoosh, splat, Monroe puree. Do we understand each other?"  
  
"You really feel like trying it? Bring it on, big boy. And I do mean big." She chortled, gaze roaming down to his abdomen.  
  
His eyes blazing with the fury he was trying desperately to keep at bay, Darien rose from his chair and spoke quietly to Alex before leaving the room. His words could have had no more intense impact on his target had he screamed them inches from her face.  
  
"Claire isn't always available when I need a shot, Alex. One of these times, it's gonna be you an' me an' the red-eye.... all by ourselves. See, this... demon I got inside me... he's real imaginative an' majorly twisted. He'll crush your mind and your body into talcum powder before anyone can find us, hell before anyone even knows you're missing. Pleasant dreams, sweetheart."  
  
Bobby watched his partner exit then turned on a stunned Alex Monroe and added his own two cents, once as he passed her and again at the door.  
  
"We'll decide what the plan is tomorrow mornin' before we leave. Oh, an' in case you were wonderin', I could be standin' six inches away an' I wouldn't lift a hand to stop him. See you at 0600."  
  
Bobby closed the door gently behind him, leaving Alex alone in the room to ponder her next move. She understood all too well that she was little more than the Official's pawn in the current game of chess they were all playing. The question that plagued her was whether the smartest idea might be to abandon the board altogether before, in the manner of all pawns who outlive their usefulness, she was summarily sacrificed.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
One floor up and a few rooms further down the corridor, Darien sat tensely on the couch in Bobby's tiny office, breathing mostly through his nose and working immensely hard to calm himself. Bobby perched on a worn ottoman in front of him softly talking his partner down and massaging Darien's hands using a technique Claire had shown him a few days before.  
  
"You're okay. Breathe slow. Let all the bad stuff just float away. Let it go, partner. Let it all go.... there. That's better. In through the nose, out through the mouth.... good. Slow and deep. Relax. You alright, now?"  
  
"Not really. I can't stick around here, Bobby. If I see her even once more today one of us is gonna end up in the emergency room with somethin' important broken in at least a couple places."  
  
"After what you told her back in the conference room? I wouldn't bet on it. You didn't see her face. That stuff about gettin' her alone an' goin' QSM on her.... she heard that loud an' clear. She'll think twice, maybe three times, before she opens her mouth in front of either one of us again."  
  
"That's a comfort, Hobbes, but I still need to get out. Let's go get the rest of the baby furniture outta lay-away. A couple hours painting is practically guaranteed to chill me out."  
  
"Now it is. Before...."  
  
"Bobby. What'd I say about past is past? When you walk around lookin' back all the time you miss what's happenin' now, not to mention the good stuff comin' up. You made a mistake. Get over it. We got a baby girl to get ready for, an awesome new apartment to cram our collected stuff into.... today an' tomorrow are way more exciting to me right now than yesterday. Get it?"  
  
"Got it."  
  
"Good. Let's go hit the baby store."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"It's obvious you're upset. Just tell me what he said. I promise I'll see he's appropriately reprimanded."  
  
"It was nothing. Nothing I didn't provoke, anyway."  
  
"Agent Monroe. Talk to me. He can't be allowed to get away with this... whatever *this* is."  
  
"Sir, I swear it was nothing. I was angry and feeling bitchy and I let my mouth run a little too far and too long. He... he made some comment about finding me the next time he goes QS mad and showing me his Mr. Hyde impression then he walked out of the meeting with Hobbes on his heels."  
  
"The usual childish behavior on both their parts. Go find the terrible two and bring them to me. I'll deal with it."  
  
"Sir, I can't...."  
  
"That's an order, Agent Monroe."  
  
"I'm trying to tell you that they're gone. They were walking toward the front entrance as I was heading here."  
  
"Where were they going?"  
  
"As if I know. They wouldn't bother to tell me if Armageddon had arrived. At this point, Fawkes would rather see me judged and dropped into the pit of eternal damnation than speak two civil words to me."  
  
"So? Tone down the jealousy and rage a little. Even apologize maybe. Your plan for fostering dissention on this assignment won't work if there isn't a little trust somewhere in the mix."  
  
"I'll have to work on Hobbes. I screwed any chance with Fawkes this morning. Sorry."  
  
"Don't tell me your problems. As I said, back off on the brashness a bit. If you present it properly, they'll both listen. They may not act like it around you, but after you plant your bad seeds, watch them around each other. That's how you'll know if it worked."  
  
"Right. Makes sense. I'm going home to eat and get some sleep. Can I assume you won't be here to see us off tomorrow morning?" Alex asked, standing to leave.  
  
"At, what was it, six a.m.? You figure it out."  
  
"I thought as much. One of us will call from Vegas tomorrow night and leave a voice mail, whether or not anything pans out."  
  
"And you expect to be home..."  
  
"Friday afternoon, maybe Friday night. It all depends on what does or doesn't go down."  
  
"Good luck and try not to let Dr. Rendell sneak behind you again. It almost got your throat slit last time."  
  
"Thanks for the reminder. Not like I needed one."  
  
"You're welcome anyway."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
WEDNESDAY NIGHT  
  
"That was a wonderful meal, Darien. Superb, actually."  
  
Thanks, Eberts. Glad *somebody* got to enjoy it."  
  
"Complain, complain. You're lucky you got any dinner at all. If I was Claire I woulda smacked your ass for whinin' an' sent you to your room an hour ago." Bobby tossed in, frowning as he drained the last drops from his glass of beer.  
  
"Ha, ha. Put that act on tape, Hobbes. I'll label it 'World's Lamest Orangutan Comedian' an' send it to Letterman for his Stupid Pet Tricks segment."  
  
"Alright, enough. Stop this bickering, or you'll both end up in separate rooms and neither one of you will get any of the bread pudding I made for dessert." Claire threatened.  
  
"Bread pudding? I love your bread pudding..... okay. Shutting up as of now."  
  
"I'd walk through a wall of fire for that stuff." Bobby added. "Shutting up over here also."  
  
Both men folded their hands primly on the table and sat silently, waiting for the dishes of warm pudding to arrive. Claire smiled, victorious. Eberts stared from Darien to Bobby in amazement then looked to the Keeper and laughed.  
  
"You've got them well trained, I see. Does a threat of no dessert always do it?"  
  
"Almost always. Of course after dessert, I have to try to get one or both to clear the table and do dishes and it starts all over again."  
  
Eberts gazed vaguely down at his watch just then and his eyes widened slightly.  
  
"Oh, my. I didn't realize.... That information I needed to talk to the men about? I should do it soon, Claire. It's nearly eight and Darien and Robert have to be up quite early tomorrow"  
  
"Yes, absolutely. Would you help me dish out and serve the pudding, Albert?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
Once in the relative privacy of the kitchen, Claire questioned Eberts one last time to be sure he understood what he was about to do.  
  
"I agree it's the right thing. I'm the one who said you should have told them the minute you found out. It's the consequences that worry me. If he decides to go after the Official...."  
  
"We'll simply remind him that the baby is his priority. Taking his revenge at this point would endanger all of us, especially the child. Besides, I'm working on something that will neutralize the Official and his machinations quite effectively. I can't say more than that at this point. It isn't... polished and perfected yet."  
  
"You're not putting yourself in danger, are you?"  
  
"In a sense. I may have to step in front of a proverbial bullet, but I'm more than agile enough to dodge it."  
  
"Albert..."  
  
"Please trust me, Claire. Everything will be fine. *I* will be fine. We'd better get this pudding out there before the natives get restless." He said, lifting the two dishes he'd filled and heading for the archway leading back into the dining room.  
  
Claire frowned, but gathered the other two servings and followed, praying Eberts hadn't bitten off so much that he would end up choking. "Here we are, gentlemen. Looks delicious."  
  
Eberts placed the two dishes he held in front of Darien and Bobby, took his own dessert from Claire and re-claimed his chair.  
  
"So what was this huge piece of bad news you wanted to tell us, Ebes?"  
  
"It doesn't necessarily have to end up that way. As I told Claire a moment ago, I've been working to alter the outcome.... but the potential for disaster is, I'm afraid, very real if I can't stop the Official from completing the plan he and Agent Monroe are engaged in."  
  
"Which is?" Bobby prompted.  
  
"First, let me assure you that I had very little to do with this. As soon as I realized how far he was willing to go.... I disengaged myself and began to work at cross-purposes, to work against both of them."  
  
"It's okay, Eberts. You're on the right side now, that's all that counts. Just tell us what he's tryin' to do."  
  
"He's been negotiating with several different so-called research organizations.... groups that specifically deal with children. None of them are anything like legitimate. One in particular.... The bottom line is that the Official plans to seize your baby at birth and deliver her to whoever has.... floated to the top spot on his list by that point."  
  
Darien's face instantly went ashen and he sat back abruptly, instinctively wrapping his arms around his abdomen as if in defense of his unborn child. Bobby, as usual an utter contrast to his partner, flushed brick red with anger and immediately spoke up  
  
"This is the real deal? You ain't messin' with us?"  
  
"I have no motive to come here and lie to you, Robert..."  
  
"Yeah, you do. Last I knew you weren't too happy with me. Plus, you're still on the Agency payroll. You could be tryin' to distract us with a bogus story so when the time comes, we're lookin' the wrong way when our baby girl vanishes..."  
  
"Bobby?! How can you say that?" Claire interjected. "Do you know what he's risking even coming here tonight?"  
  
"It's alright, Claire. He has every right to question my word. I may be risking my job, but if I'm lying, Robert is risking everything by trusting me. There's no comparison. It's true that I was quite disappointed in your behavior, Robert, but Darien, being the excellent judge of character I know him to be, obviously believes your regret and your desire to make things right are sincere, so I have to believe as well.  
  
As for the Agency.... I do still technically work for them, but that may only last until I can complete my plan to secure the safety and freedom of your child. Once she's protected..... I haven't decided whether to quit outright, request a transfer to another office or.... well, there are other options.  
  
I know I can't force you to trust me, Robert. All I can do is ask. As Darien said earlier, I'm on the right side now. I'm just relieved that I found out which was which before it was too late. Thank you again for the wonderful meal, Darien and for the opportunity to clear this from my conscience. I should be getting home, now." Eberts concluded, standing and moving away from the table.  
  
Darien, finally shaking free of his stupor, stopped the other man as he was opening the front door.  
  
"Hey... Sorry I zoned out for a while. It... it hit me real hard. I'm still havin' trouble believing it's true. I never thought...."  
  
"I've been with him for years. I would never have believed it if he hadn't tried to make me a part of it from the beginning. Promise me something, Darien?"  
  
"After what you did for me an' Bobby tonight? Anything, man."  
  
"In a day or two, the confusion and fear you're feeling tonight will turn into anger at Charles. I want you to promise me that you won't act on that. It could destroy all of us if you do. It will undoubtedly ruin my plans and, one way or another, you will almost certainly lose the baby. Promise me you'll let me handle this."  
  
"I promise, but you gotta tell me about this plan. What are you gonna do an' how can I help?"  
  
"You can't and I shouldn't discuss it until I'm ready to implement it. I'm sorry..."  
  
"Sorry doesn't cut it. You shouldn't have to get hurt puttin' your ass on the line for me. It's not like I ever sent anything back the other way."  
  
"Darien, don't say that. I know it may sound strange, but something you never did meant the world to me."  
  
"Huh? Like what?"  
  
"You never treated me like *I* was an invisible man."  
  
His coat slung over his arm in deference to the warm night, Eberts favored Darien with a smile then turned away and strolled down the steps to where his car awaited him at the curb.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
LATE THURSDAY MORNING: LAS VEGAS  
  
"Get the hell back in the van, Hobbes. You standing out there pacing won't make Fawkes get in contact any sooner and you're about to drive me nuts."  
  
"Air's fresher out here. Besides, nothin' could make you any crazier than you are. I know you've seen Darien runnin' on high octane at least once. You messin' with him like that yesterday.... that had to be the bonehead move of the century."  
  
"It seemed like a good idea at the time."  
  
"Yeah, well that just goes to show how much of a numbskull you are. That's why I'm stuck with you. Fawkes still wants to rip your face off, spit in it an' throw the rest of you under a movin' bus. Why else do you think we made you ride in the back of the van all the way here?"  
  
"You mean being treated like a box of old clothes going to Good Will wasn't the honor I thought it was? That saddens me, Hobbes. Really and truly." Alex shot back, her tone edgy and sarcastic.  
  
"There goes that lip again. I swear, you don't do somethin' about it Fawkes'll have to stand in line to kick your bloated ass..."  
  
"Bloated?! You stunted, hairless, miserable excuse for a toad..." she hissed at Hobbes, starting to get out of the van. Bobby leaned against the door, preventing her exit.  
  
"I may be goin' bald, but at least what I'm losin' is still the original color!"  
  
Alex 's jaw dropped, she produced a choked sound of fury and lunged out the open window, scrabbling for Bobby's throat. Hobbes was saved a moment later, not by a bell, but by his partner.  
  
"Hey. You there, Bobby? Talk to me, man."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm right here, partner. You got her?"  
  
"You could say that. Bring Alex and meet me outside the hotel in five. Oh... an' tell her I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean it."  
  
"Right. On the way." Bobby replied, pulling his earpiece out and tossing it back into the van. "You locked and loaded, Monroe?"  
  
"Always. Why? That sounded like he's got things wrapped up."  
  
"Nothin's what it sounds. He's in trouble." Bobby countered, checking his own weapon.  
  
"Trouble? How in hell do you get that?"  
  
"Remember what I said about your face an' a bus? That apology was a signal. He knew *I'd* know it was a lie. She wants us out in the open an' she's usin' him to get us there. So we'll just give her what she wants." He explained, moving to the back of the van to extract some equipment. Alex left the vehicle and strode up to stand behind him as he settled the equipment into place.  
  
"You're planning to just walk into an obvious trap and possibly sacrifice yourself, all for one man? That goes against every rule in the book and you know it, Hobbes. The mission comes first and in pursuit of the goal, anyone is expendable..."  
  
With far more speed than Alex would ever have given Bobby Hobbes credit for, the smaller man whipped around and landed a solid blow to the left side of her face with an open hand. Alex staggered back, one hand flying up to cover the mark he'd left, and simply stared at him in disbelief.  
  
"Fawkes is not expendable. My child is not expendable. Not now, not ever. You say that in my hearin' again, you won't have to wait for Darien to go red-eye. I'll beat you down so hard you'll lose every memory back to your first diaper change.... we clear?"  
  
"Damn, Hobbes, I think you loosened a couple of my teeth...."  
  
"Are... we... clear?"  
  
"Yeah. Crystal."  
  
"Make sure it stays that way. Here. Take this an' let's go. We've wasted too much time already." he told her, tossing something in her direction and not bothering to see if she'd caught it or not before he slammed the rear doors to the van and took off. A second or two later, when her shock had worn away, Alex followed.  
  
"Hobbes, you bull-headed idiot! Stop and talk to me, damn it! Do you even have a tiny shred of a plan?"  
  
"I'm the distraction." Bobby shot back, never slowing down. "When I move into her field of vision and get her attention, you circle around and take her out any way you can. I don't care how you do it. Kill her if you have to, but that's the last resort. If it's possible to keep her alive, do it. If it isn't.... oh well."  
  
"That's it? You call that a plan?" Alex berated him as they hustled up the sidewalk across the strip from the hotel entrance they were seeking.  
  
"That's what I call it an' if it's gonna work you need to pick a car to hide behind before she sees you."  
  
Crouching low, Alex glared at Hobbes, growled deep in her throat then cautiously peered between her chosen concealment and the vehicle behind it, trying to keep a clear view of what was going on. Her expression changed to astonishment and fear when she watched Bobby walk slowly into the street, his hands raised in seeming surrender. The woman across the strip grinned, twisted Darien's arm further up behind his back and tightened her grip on the gun she held against his waist.  
  
"Well, well. If it isn't Agent Hobbit. Nice of you to show up so quickly, Agent. Cross to my side and do it now. Move!"  
  
"You can't blame me for bein' careful. That's my partner you got a gun trained on."  
  
"You could keep cruising nice and slow, I suppose. I mean you're both going to die anyway. But as you said, I'm the one with the gun and I say I want you here in the next five seconds or your friend will find himself with a few gushing holes at various points on his body."  
  
When Bobby stopped moving completely, Alex had to stifle a gasp, but she knew that he must be putting his distraction plan into motion and she began to execute her part of the scheme.  
  
"Let him go, doc. You let him loose.... an' I'll come over to you." Bobby offered, hearing distant sirens and knowing he probably only had a few minutes to bring the situation to a peaceful end before the local police showed up and blew everything to hell.  
  
"You're more of an imbecile than I thought! You both had a part in my husband's death; you're going to die together. Start walking."  
  
"I don't think so, Liz. You don't really wanna hurt me or Fawkes. You're in pain, I get that. You're still grievin' Arnaud an' you're blamin' us for his death, but I'm bettin' you're not a killer. I don't think you wanna pull the trigger. I don't think you can...."  
  
"You forced me into using this... thing!" she yelled, gesturing slightly with the gun. "Your damn scientists stripped my abilities.... they took away almost everything my husband gave me.... You want proof? You really insist on proof of how serious I am? Watch."  
  
Before Bobby could even draw a breath, Liz Rendell had lifted the gun to Darien's chest and begun to squeeze the trigger.  
  
"No! No, damn it! I believe, okay? I know you're serious, Liz! Just... drop the gun back down... please."  
  
As Bobby began to move forward again, the weapon slowly returned to its previous position.  
  
"Better. Now get the hell over here."  
  
"I'm comin'.... but you hear that? Sirens. Gettin' closer every second. You're not gettin' outta this alive once they get here, Liz. With us, at least you got a chance of keepin' your brains in your head. Come back to the Agency and you'll keep livin' at least..."  
  
"You don't get it! You don't understand.... without him I have no life! I don't give a shit about my life if he's not here to share it with me! You wouldn't let him alone.... he could have lived another two or three years.... we could have had another thirty-six months together. He could have died in my arms instead of with people he hated. You.... you put him under so much stress.... you killed him. You murdered the one man I'll ever love.... you don't deserve to live...."  
  
Throwing Darien aside, Elizabeth Rendell raised her gun, pointed it at the center of Bobby's chest and fired. Bobby was hurled backwards by the impact, landing on his left side a few inches shy of the yellow line. The doctor then turned her gun on a horror-struck Darien who lay helpless before her, crumpled on the sidewalk, but before she could fire, a screaming Alex tackled her from behind, knocking the weapon out of her hand and sending it spinning several feet away.  
  
One knee in the doctor's spine, Monroe had her cuffed and secured by the time the police pulled up. After showing her badge, she handed Rendell over to the cops temporarily and strode to assist Darien, who was sobbing and trying to crawl out to where Bobby lay on the asphalt, his position unchanged.  
  
"Chill, Fawkes. Stay here, okay? I'll be right back."  
  
Darien shoved her away viciously and struggled to rise to his feet. Alex, knowing he wouldn't calm down until he saw the truth for himself, backed off and went to help Bobby instead, leaving two police officers to keep an eye on Darien.  
  
Kneeling beside Hobbes, Alex turned him onto his back and gently vibrated his shoulder.  
  
"Hey. You in there Hobbes? C'mon, Bobby. Open your eyes."  
  
Slowly, Bobby's eyes did slit open.  
  
"Damn.... can't breathe.... check it... make sure...."  
  
Alex quickly and efficiently unbuttoned Hobbes' jacket to reveal the Kevlar vest underneath. It took her a moment to find where the bullet had settled, but when she did she reassured him.  
  
"You'll be bruised, but the vest caught it. Damn good thing you took the time to put this on. The impression is directly over your heart."  
  
"I didn't get shot.... but it still hurts like hell.... great trade off...."  
  
"I'm sure Fawkes will think so." Alex chuckled as she helped Bobby into a sitting position then tugged him onto his feet just in time for Darien to rush onto the scene. Understanding she had no right to stay, Alex moved off to take charge of Liz Rendell.  
  
Darien embraced Bobby for several seconds, then pulled away and slugged him in the arm.  
  
"You bastard! How could you do that?! How could you let me think she'd killed you?!"  
  
"Had to be done. I knew if I could get her focused on me, get her to fire on me, it'd give Alex a shot at her.... an' you'd have at least some chance of makin' it.... I'm sorry, partner.... it was the only thing I could think to do..."  
  
"It's okay. You're alive. That's what matters. You're alive.... but Hobbes?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You ever try a brainless stunt like this again, I'll throw every Frank Sinatra record you own in the microwave, set it on high an' turn Old Blue Eyes into one big black mess...."  
  
"That's a deal, partner. That's a deal."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
THURSDAY NIGHT: SAN DIEGO  
  
"Man, it's so good to be back. I just wanna sleep 'till the baby comes."  
  
A step or two behind Darien, Bobby gripped his shoulder and voiced his agreement, which earned him another slug on the arm.  
  
"Yeah. You do look really dead, Fawkes. Ow! What?"  
  
"Think about what you're sayin' wouldja? After today, that's not exactly a word I wanna hear."  
  
"Sorry. I just meant you must be exhausted."  
  
"Yeah, well it's been a long, sweaty, rotten week."  
  
"I know, kid. I was there for most of it."  
  
"You were? I'm so tired I can't remember." Darien joked.  
  
"Message received. You head in and get changed for bed. I'll be there in a while."  
  
"Mmm. Need a shower first."  
  
{A shower'll just wake him up. That ain't what he needs.... hang on. Genius idea takin' shape....}  
  
"I got a better idea."  
  
"Better than me not stinkin' one more minute? Can't think of one."  
  
"Oh, you'll get clean."  
  
"Boy, do I not like the sound of that. You can't possibly *imagine* how much I hate the sound of that...."  
  
"Get your one-track mind outta the gutter, Fawkes! I'm sayin' you should have a bath instead of a shower."  
  
"That's not all of it. I can see it in those beady little eyes of yours...."  
  
Bobby smiled wickedly.  
  
"Trust me?"  
  
"I did until you started all this bath stuff...."  
  
"Just go get a towel a' whatever you're sleepin' in an' meet me outside the downstairs bathroom in fifteen minutes, funny man."  
  
Darien threw Bobby a reluctant, almost fearful glance then shuffled off to do as his best friend had requested.  
  
When they reunited, Darien noticed that the grin hadn't left Bobby's face and two items he couldn't come close to guessing the purpose of sat at his partner's feet.  
  
"A bucket of water.... and a plastic fast-food drink cup. Do I even wanna know?"  
  
"You will soon. Get in there an' get undressed. The tub is all set up so just yell when you're in."  
  
Peeking into the bathroom, Darien saw that Bobby had stretched a towel lengthwise along the surface of the bathtub and weighted the corners with various bottles to keep it taut and prevent it from getting wet, thus providing a screen that would hide most of his partner's body once he'd slid into the water.  
  
"Look, Bobby, this Rube Goldberg act is interesting an' all, but...."  
  
"It's okay, I swear. You'll love this. Like I said.... trust me."  
  
Even more worried now, Darien again aquiesced to Hobbes' wishes, praying, as he shut the door between them, that whatever Bobby had in mind wasn't something they'd be horrified for Claire to walk in on.  
  
"Okay. I think I'm ready." He anounced several minutes later.  
  
"You better be sure, 'cause I'm comin' in." Bobby chirped, entering with the bucket and an extra towel folded into a thick pad. The towel he tossed onto the floor behind the tub and carefully knelt down on before responding to Darien's stricken expression and the furious blush that covered his face. "Relax, kid. I'm just tryin' to make sure you really sleep good tonight."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Ever had anybody wash your hair?"  
  
"My mother an' my hair stylist."  
  
"You actually get your hair cut? I always thought you had a gardener take a weed-whacker to it once a month."  
  
"Funny. We're in rare form tonight. Look, you're makin' me really nervous, here..."  
  
"Not necessary. Tip your head back," he said, gently pressing on Darien's forehead to encourage cooperation. "close your eyes an' chill while I make a little magic. Viv used to love it when I did this for her. It was one a'the few things she liked about me right up to the end. Tilt back a little more.... there ya go. Good. Stay right there." Bobby instructed softly as he dipped a cup of clean water from the bucket and slowly poured it over the younger man's head. He repeated the process with two more cups, running his fingers through Darien's hair between soakings to make sure every strand was thoroughly wet.  
  
"Wow... the water feels good. Not hot, but not ice cold either."  
  
"You ain't been payin' attention in yoga. Claire says stress pushes your body temperature up. Hot or cold water woulda been a shock.... more stress to your system. Lukewarm water was the obvious choice."  
  
"Ah-hah. That's why the water in the tub is lukewarm too."  
  
"Now you're catchin' on. Okay. Looks like we're ready for the shampoo."  
  
"Bring it on."  
  
Bobby grinned easily and poured a liberal amount of shampoo into one palm. Setting the bottle down on the floor, he began to employ both hands to work the lightly scented gel through Darien's thick hair. He took his time over the creation and distribution of the lather, turning what could have been a quick, simple process into a soothing, tension-erasing scalp massage. He also kept the rinse and repeat deliberately slow and easy.  
  
"I almost recognize the scent of the shampoo, but it won't come to me. What is it?"  
  
"Lavender. It's kind of a natural sedative. That's another trick Claire taught me. I picked up some lavender bath oil too. You can put some in if you want.... when I'm finished, I mean." Bobby offered, rinsing Darien's hair one last time and sifting the dark locks with his fingers to assure himself all the soap had been washed away. "Well? How you feelin' now, partner?"  
  
"You really wanna know? You're not gonna freak again if I'm straight with you?"  
  
Darien tried to keep his fear out of the question, but Bobby heard it and suddenly found himself trying to swallow past the now familiar softball sized lump in his throat.  
  
"No way. Tell me."  
  
"I feel cherished..... appreciated..... safe.... an' totally loved."  
  
Rising slowly, due to a pair of mildly creaky knees, Bobby raised a hand and swept all traces of salt-laden moisture from his eyes.  
  
"That was pretty much the idea, kid. You take as long as you want for your bath, okay? I'll be in the bedroom when you're done."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Bobby made his escape from the bathroom as quickly as he could, but only made it as far as the living room couch before shock and emotion overwhelmed him.  
  
{This kid is just too much.... Cherished? Safe? He really meant it, too. After what I did, how.... All I wanted was to get him relaxed, help him sleep.... wait. No. No more bull-shittin', Hobbesy, yourself or him. You did exactly what you wanted to do an' got just the result you expected. You're fallin' hard, bud. You're walkin' straight off the end of the gangplank an' you don't know or care whether those fins in the water mean dolphins.... or sharks. Oh crap....}  
  
Reaching into his pocket, Bobby pulled out a coin.  
  
"Okay, look, God. I know I stopped talkin' to you a long time ago.... an' maybe that means I don't have a right to come to you now, but.... you're all I got left. I'm beggin' you, just this once let it be. It feels so right this time. Darien an' Bobbi.... they're my shot.... my one chance to get it right. I need help.... My fear's almost killed this twice now. Please God, I'm beggin' you to help me not screw this up. Please.... just show me how not to be afraid..."  
  
Eyes tightly shut, Bobby flipped the coin into the air. He heard it drop onto the surface of the coffee table in front of him, but he refused to look at the result. Instead, he rose and headed for their shared room to prepare for bed.  
  
As he undressed and slipped on his pajamas he marveled for a moment that, except for his two week hiatus, neither he nor Darien had slept alone since that first night when he'd soothed his partner out of his nightmares and back into sleep. They'd discovered early on that each needed the other's presence to be able to find rest. After Vivian's betrayal, Bobby had lost all hope and had surrendered the belief that anyone would ever need him that way again. Even now, when he felt faith trying to rebuild itself within him, he supressed it a little, fearful of its growing too fast; unwilling to blindly follow a dream into heartbreak a second time.  
  
His bath finally finished, Darien strolled into the bedroom forty minutes after Bobby had left him to find his partner in the chair beside the bed, deeply engrossed in a thick book. If he was ready first, Bobby always waited. One of their other early discoveries was that unless Darien got into bed first, both men tossed and thrashed ceaselessly, unable to find a comfortable position.  
  
This night, though, Darien made a detour and moved to stand directly in front of where Bobby sat. When he couldn't gain his partner's attention, he tugged the book from his hands. Bobby opened his mouth to make a mild protest, but Darien laid a finger on his lips to quiet him, placed his hands on the arms of the chair then bent his neck until his forehead touched Bobby's. In the dark eyes that locked solidly onto his, Bobby found a clear, gently mocking refutation of the fact that he wasn't a reader, but Darien left that unspoken. Instead, Fawkes spoke a few quiet, but obviously emotional, words, brushed an easy kiss over Hobbes' brow then retreated to his side of the bed and slid under the covers.  
  
"It takes a hell of a lot to make me feel comfortable and easy in my body right now. Thank you."  
  
Hobbes flushed bright crimson, turning his head away while he waited for the younger man to settle in. In moments, Bobby was curled close to Darien, one hand on the other's belly so he'd instantly be alerted if either parent or child startled or needed help.  
  
{Oh, yeah. I can do this. I'm not givin' up this time. I know now I made it too easy for Viv to just walk away. I didn't think I deserved her love, so I just let it go.... well, I'm not lettin' go of this.... that coin is yours, God. I tossed it for the last time, you hear me? You keep it. I don't need it anymore....}  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC..... Two chapters to go, people! One short interlude, and then the moment you've all been waiting for! Bobbi is on her way so everybody find your hardhats and safety goggles and pull that safety belt tight... you're in for a wild ride! 


	18. Week32: Ninth month begins

Week 32: Ninth Month Begins  
  
INTERLUDE: THE STANDINGS GOING INTO THE FINAL ROUND OF COMPETITION...  
  
EBERTS/  
  
Sliding open the center drawer in his desk, Albert Eberts gazed down at the only occupant of the drawer, a thick file folder, and sighed. What he'd seen of his employer's behavior and attitude during the past several days had convinced him that his hole card would have to be placed on the table, however much he despised the necessity of the action.  
  
Tugging the folder out, he slid it onto the desk and flipped it open to the first page. What he found made his stomach twist and knot within his body. Up until this point, he had been only marginally aware of what the file contained. He had feared the knowledge, feared the loss of even one more of the pleasant illusions that had so far sustained him in a very dark world.  
  
Only the previous evening, however, during a phone call from his unseen assistant and adviser, Eberts had been warned about his anything-to-please, whatever-I-can-do nature and the possibility that, out of misplaced and unwarranted long-term loyalty, he might allow the Official to slip his foot out of the snare they had set, resulting in tragedy for all concerned. It had been suggested, and Eberts had reluctantly agreed, that the only certain, unshakeable motivation for finishing his part of the plan was anger; righteous and justifiable anger and the only way to find that was to read the file from cover to cover. This he was now attempting to do, despite the nausea and extreme discomfort it was casuing him.  
  
As Eberts slowly turned the pages, a pattern began to emerge for him and the motivation he was seeking came to him easily, in more than sufficient amounts. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
CLAIRE/  
  
Claire Westerfield stared at her computer screen, barely able to accept what she saw there. Inside, her heart was leaping and dancing for joy, but she held her elation deep, pushing it down so that no trace even showed in her expression. If anyone, especially her employer, learned about her theoretical discovery before she could make it a reality, it would be taken and destroyed, lost not only to her but to the one who needed it so desperately.  
  
The solution, once it was laid out before her, was much simpler than she had ever dared to hope it could be. If she could only manage to maintain the secret a few weeks longer, everything might just be ready by the time all the other players were. She knew she would have to work in her home lab, which meant revealing to another person, two actually, that it existed, but that was a very small price to pay for the miracle she intended to create there.  
  
Carefully, with more trepidation and outright terror than she had ever felt, Claire saved the documents and files and downloaded them onto a CD. Nothing of what she had found could be left on her work system for prying eyes to uncover. At least not until the birth. After that, if all went as she prayed it would, everything would change for the better.  
  
After making absolutely sure that the download had been successful, Claire retrieved the disk, popped it into a case and slipped it into her purse. She then cleared the screen and began work on another project. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
THE OFFICIAL/  
  
Charles Borden stared at the phone reciever he had just that moment returned to its cradle. The arrangements for the retrieval of the child were finalized. He didn't leap for joy, didn't laugh. He didn't even smile. Despite what everyone else would undoubtedly believe when they finally realized what he'd done, the act brought him no happiness. He had no regrets, either. It was his job and nothing more. The job called for no extremes of emotion.  
  
For him, more than most, the temptation to climb emotional heights or plumb the depths of his own soul was like matches and paper to a curious child. Emotions themselves were dangerous toys in his hands and he'd learned long ago not to play with them.  
  
Still he stared at the phone, viciously repressing the voice in the back of his head and the roiling in his guts. Eventually, he fell back on an old technique that had always kept him calm in times of stress. From his memory, he dragged an image of the Vulcan science officer Mr. Spock from the television series "Star Trek" and started a well used sound byte loop playing in his head. He was sure the writers had never put the words into the character's mouth in just this from, but it helped to hear it in the actor's soothing tones, so Charles had never changed it.  
  
{Emotions are illogical and unnecessary. They only stand in the way of clear thought and reasoning, without which we would get nothing done. Emotions are illogical and unnecessary. They only....} ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
ALEX/  
  
Ever since the morning of her confrontation with her fellow agents, Alex Monroe had been considering her position on the chess board. She didn't see her chances of ultimate survival getting any better as the weeks went by. Circumstances and her own choices were drawing a cage closer and closer about her and every escape route would soon be cut off if things didn't change. If she didn't make them change.  
  
Though she searched frantically for a way to do just that, she understood too well that her options were severely limited and dwindling faster every day. Her surest flight path lay in a single direction, toward the damage she'd done and away from her mistakes, but it was one she was loath to face. Her other clear choice, to allow the status-quo to remain and face the consequences her rage, helplessness and envy had led her to, made her feel even closer to being trapped, forever seen as the traitor by everyone except her fellow conspirator. If there were any roads in between these two, they were shrouded in fog and impossible to see, never mind follow.  
  
Moving to stand at a nearby window, Alex leaned against the wall and gazed out into an overcast late afternoon plodding tiredly toward dusk. She tried to push away all the fears and recriminations, knowing they did her no good at this late date. Only one thought stubbornly remained, circling her brain like a dog chasing its tail; that she'd finally managed to screw up her life irevocably the way her mother had always said she would. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
BOBBY/  
  
Robert Hobbes sat at the ancient desk in his small office, trying to make his brain function properly and keep it on the subject at hand; paperwork. The more he pulled his focus back to the mind-numbing stack of forms in front of him, the more it insisted on returning to thoughts of his partner, now officially on maternity leave and resting at home. The separation bothered Bobby immensely. Constant reminders to himself that the other man had a cell phone for emergencies, extra blankets, books to read, a roof over his head, food and water didn't ease Bobby's mind. He couldn't seem to convince himself that a disaster wasn't imminent just because he had been talked into remaining at work and keeping up appearances for the Official.  
  
Claire, Eberts and Darien had all worked hard to make him see that the longer their enemy was unaware of what they knew, the better the chances of stopping him. Eventually, Bobby had conceded.  
  
Every hour or two, however, he found himself rising and headed for the door with his coat, determined that noone was going to keep him away from Darien. After a brief internal struggle, he always forced himself to turn back, replace his coat on the hook and sit back down at his desk. He might not know what Ebert's plans were all about, specifically, but he knew his part; showing a happy, shiny face to the dragon to keep him appeased so he didn't barbecue the village or eat anybody. That and not getting in the way.  
  
His part might grate on him like powdered cleanser on porcelain, but it was his and if it meant their baby would be safe he'd see it through no matter what. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
DARIEN/  
  
As he carefully pulled a tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, Darien Fawkes hummed softly and smiled. Thanks to Claire's tuelage they had come out perfectly, just like the previous three batches. Even under her supervision, his first attempt had not gone so well, resulting in a trash can full of faintly smoldering black lumps. This time, he was pleased with his efforts and anxious to see Claire and Bobby's faces when they arrived home to fresh baked cookies and glasses of ice cold milk waiting for them.  
  
Exhausted, he punched the buttons to turn off the oven, tugged off his protective mitts and strolled into the living room to relax while the treats cooled. Dropping onto the couch, his mind turned to Bobby and how deeply he felt it when they weren't together. Everyone else had told him it was vital that his partner stay at the Agency and act as if they knew nothing of the Official's plans and he knew they were right. Knowing didn't restore the completeness, the sense of being finally whole that Bobby's presence brought him.  
  
Darien had found many things to occupy his time, but no activity lasted all day and he could only stay on his feet or concentrate on one thing for so long before fatigue or aches forced him to stop and rest. In those periods of quiet stillness the loss struck him as hard and brutally as if Bobby actually had died on that street in Las Vegas. Darien believed he had found his true other half, the one who was meant to spend his life with him. He cursed the circumstances that kept them apart eight to ten hours a day, but for the sake of harmony he kept his feelings to himself. When they were able to be together, in the early mornings and at night, he reveled in having Bobby back and he made sure the other man saw his joy clearly and felt none of his frustration or worry.  
  
Claire's target date was only six weeks away. Until then he would simply have to make the most of what time he was allowed with Bobby and struggle silently through the rest. It would be the longest six weeks of his life, but for Bobby he could do it. For Bobby and for the child they would soon share, Darien felt strong enough to do anything. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC...... 


	19. Week 35: Endgame Part One

WEEK 35: END GAME ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TUESDAY NIGHT ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"That was awesome, guys. Thanks so much for everything. This was all stuff we really needed." Darien told his friends, staring around him at the surprise baby shower gifts he and Bobby had been given and beginning to gather them up into a neater pile.  
  
"I still say the peek-a-boo nightie an' the edible undies were a nasty joke. Not funny."  
  
"The rest of us laughed." Eberts replied, chuckling in wonderment that he'd ever found the courage to purchase the gag gift.  
  
"You're just jealous 'cause only my name was on the tag." Darien smirked, thoroughly enjoying Bobby's discomfort.  
  
"Yeah, well, you ever decide to try those things on I'll be right there with a camera, trust me. Let's see you live it down when the pictures are tacked up all over the agency..."  
  
"How about I tear the negligee a little, spray it with the fat man's favorite cologne and leave it caught in your office door someday when you're on assignment, huh? Then we'll see who's living down what, partner..."  
  
As the battle of potential practical jokes raged on, Eberts leaned close to Claire and commented on the floor show.  
  
"It's good to see them back to normal."  
  
"Yes, isn't it." she responded, grinning softly. "Alright, you two. Enough. It's almost nine. Time to get this mess cleaned up so you can get to bed. Give me a hand, Bobby?"  
  
"Sure." Hobbes replied, rising to his feet and beginning to gather trash before realizing there was an easier method. "On second thought, I'll go get a trash bag from the kitchen."  
  
"Good idea."  
  
When Bobby left, Eberts strolled over and claimed the spot on the couch beside Darien.  
  
"I have to get going, Darien. I'm delighted that you enjoyed our little impromptu party."  
  
"It was great. Thanks again for the baby swing. There's so much I know she's gonna need.... so much I want her to have. For the life of me I can't keep the list straight. I feel like I'll never be ready."  
  
"All new parents experience that, I think. Just remember that the most important thing this baby will need is your and Robert's love. From what I've seen, she'll have more of that than she knows what to do with. Besides, you have three weeks left to get things together. How is the new apartment coming along, by the way?"  
  
"Slow, but it's gettin' there. Seein' as I'm about the size of a full- grown hippo, I can't do much to help, so it's up to Hobbes an' he can only work on it after he punches out for the day. The baby's stuff is there and set up, mostly anyway, plus about half of my junk and half of Bobby's. Like I said, it's slow."  
  
"Hippo.... Darien, please don't say things like that. Hearing you make such degrading comments about yourself.... it saddens me."  
  
"Get a little over emotional when you hear the truth, do you?"  
  
"But it isn't the truth. You're exactly the size you're supposed to be. A once-in-a-lifetime miracle is living and growing inside you, Darien. I tend to agree with those who believe that unborn children hear and understand up to ninety percent of everything that happens in the world around them. For her sake, if not for your own, you really need to try and remain positive."  
  
"Right, and where have I heard *that* before?" Darien mumbled ruefully under his breath, mildly ashamed that he had forgotten his own lesson; the one he'd been beating Bobby over the head with for months, no less.  
  
"That wasn't meant for me, I take it."  
  
"No. No it wasn't, Ebes. That was just a... "note to self". Isn't that how the CEO's say it?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
A moment later, as he gazed at Darien waiting for him to either continue their talk or end it, Eberts saw his friend grimace slightly and touch his abdomen. "What is it? Should I get the others?"  
  
"Don't bug them. I'm okay. I just ate too much at dinner, I guess. It's catchin' up with me."  
  
"A roll, three bites of mashed potatoes and half a sliver of your shower cake are too much? Try again."  
  
"Crap. I shoulda known they'd enlist you in the 'keep an eye on Darien' spy network. I keep expecting to find a waterproof security camera in the shower...."  
  
"Does that mean I *should* speak to Claire?"  
  
"No...."  
  
Darien glanced around to be certain Claire and Bobby were distracted with the clean up then lowered his voice and answered Eberts honestly. "Look, you gotta promise not to say anything. They worry way too much about me as it is. If they knew I'm not feelin' a hundred percent, they'd have me in the Keep so fast I'd be dizzy for a week."  
  
"This is going to worry me too then?"  
  
"Probably."  
  
"Tell me anyway."  
  
"I've been havin' muscle cramps off and on all day.... way down low in my belly. It only happens every few hours an' I can barely feel 'em.... I don't wanna raise the SOS until I'm sure I'm not cryin' wolf."  
  
"But you're getting scared?"  
  
"A little."  
  
"Then let me tell Claire. If anyone can alleviate your fear, she can..."  
  
"Forget it. Not yet. If it gets worse.... maybe, but for now you keep this to yourself, okay?"  
  
"Darien. You may need help.... or the child could be in distress."  
  
"She isn't."  
  
"You can't know..."  
  
"Yes, I can. I do. She's fine.... for now."  
  
Eberts gazed at the other man critically and with deep intensity for a long moment then grudgingly gave in.  
  
"Alright, but I want a promise from you as well. If you do begin to feel measurably worse, cut any 'maybes' out of the equation and speak up. Having to spend a little time in the Keep under Claire's trained eye will be well worth it if it turns out something *is* wrong."  
  
"Okay. I promise."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Yeah, you *should* sound relieved. It won't be you gettin' poked and pinched and bled."  
  
"And I'm grateful for it. I've never been a great fan of medical examinations, myself."  
  
"I thought I was used to it. When I got pregnant, I discovered a whole new bunch of things to hate about bein' doctored."  
  
"I certainly understand. I really should go." Eberts said, standing and touching Darien's shoulder briefly. "Please remember your promises, Darien. They could mean the difference between seeing your child and losing her forever."  
  
"I know. Stay out of the Official's line of sight an' don't be too afraid to tell Claire or Bobby if the cramps get worse."  
  
"Good man. I'll see you soon, I hope. I should be able to get away some time next week."  
  
"Maybe you could.... come over for lunch a couple days a week? I'm just rattling around this huge place by myself all day an' it gets... you know."  
  
"Oh, believe me, lonely is something I'm well acquainted with. Of course I'll be here. I'll call tomorrow to let you know when."  
  
"Thanks. Drive safe, Eberts."  
  
"You hang in there, Darien. It's only three more weeks."  
  
"I'll try my best."  
  
"I know you will. Good night, Darien."  
  
"Night."  
  
Darien watched the other man stride out of the house then struggled onto his feet and shuffled into the kitchen where Claire and Bobby were doing dishes. "Eberts went home."  
  
"Oh? I thought he'd come in and say good-bye. That kind of omission is worth a lunch at his expense. Did you need something before you go to bed, sweetheart?" Claire asked him.  
  
"I don't know.... Maybe a hug?"  
  
Confused by the myriad emotions she sensed were tangled up in the seemingly simple request, Claire replaced the glass she'd just lifted from the dishwater, turned to Darien and embraced him gently.  
  
"Anytime you want one, just ask. Hugs will never be in short supply around here."  
  
Pulling away a bit, she gazed up into his face, searching for the source of whatever was upsetting or distressing him. "Are you sure that's all you needed?"  
  
"Yeah. It'll do fine. I love being here with you guys.... I wish I could see you more, but I understand how it is. I know you're workin' to protect me an' the baby. You're both so incredible.... your support means everything to me right now. I guess.... I just wanted you to know that."  
  
Darien hugged Claire tightly once more, embraced Bobby and laid a kiss on the top of his head then headed to bed, leaving his best friends stunned and crying softly, the sink full of dinner and party dishes utterly forgotten. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ TUESDAY: JUST PAST MIDNIGHT  
  
"Fawkes. Either go to sleep or tell me what's goin' on before I knock you out with the lamp."  
  
"I'm okay. A little restless, maybe.... not a crime is it?"  
  
"So talk it out like we always do."  
  
"Talking won't help what's making me restless."  
  
"I knew it. You're sick."  
  
"Where did that come from?"  
  
"The heat comin' off you has been bakin' me like a potato for the last hour. I'll go get Claire..." Bobby told him, throwing the blanket off and sliding his legs out of bed.  
  
"No! I mean.... you don't have to wake her up. She said I might go through.... hot flashes toward the end of the pregnancy. Hormones tidal waving or something. I guess this is a hot flash." Darien lied, not proud of deceiving Bobby, but perfectly willing to do it if it saved him from another round of what he considered insufferable coddling and concern. "It shouldn't last too much longer. Lay back down. Please?"  
  
"Hot flashes. Yeah, like you're a grandmother of two or somethin'. You're a lousy liar, Fawkes." Hobbes reproached his partner as he walked to the bedroom door.  
  
"Bobby, don't! Please don't... I'm feelin' a little sick, okay, but the last thing that'll get me any sleep tonight is bein' dragged down to the Agency or the hospital an' you know that's what she'll do..."  
  
"Relax, kid. I'm just gonna go get the digital thermometer. If your temp's not too high.... I'll let it go 'till mornin' an' check it again. But if it's gone up..."  
  
"... then we tell Claire. Deal."  
  
"Damn right deal."  
  
Bobby was only gone a minute or two before returning with the thermometer and a cold compress in hand. Dropping back onto his side of the bed, he activated the device and slipped it gently into Darien's ear. He had his answer in a few seconds. "99.8 Not a ragin' fever, but it ain't normal either."  
  
"So?"  
  
"I guess it can wait." Bobby replied, pressing the cool, damp cloth to the back of his partner's neck. "This should help for a while anyway. Maybe it'll cool you off enough to get back to sleep."  
  
"Whoa.... that feels really good. You're right... it could do the trick.... What about you? You're the one who has to work."  
  
"Quit worryin' about me. I'll deal the way I always do.... the way I did when I was sleepin' in Golda all those nights up in the mountains. I just shut my mind off so I wouldn't think about... what I was tryin' not to think about."  
  
"Me, right?"  
  
"Yeah, it was you. I'm surprised I got anything done on that assignment with you on my mind all day. At night.... I had to push it all away or I never woulda slept." Bobby explained, gently smoothing Darien's hair and turning the cloth to a cooler side. "What's goin' on with you tonight, huh? Askin' for hugs, thinkin' I could have had anything *but* you an' the baby on my mind while I was gone...."  
  
"I'm feeling a little insecure. Is it so wrong to need some reassurance once in a while, Hobbes? Especially after that stunt in Vegas. I mean, Bobbi's gonna be here soon.... just because I'm scared doesn't mean I'm weak...."  
  
"Shhh. I know it doesn't, kid. I know. I'm real sorry, okay? I didn't mean to push. I'm scared too, ya know? I have to fight not to let it swamp me sometimes.... when you start feelin' that way, talk to me. You can call my cell anytime durin' the day, you know that. Any other time, just come find me... I don't care if you wake me up at two in the mornin'. "  
  
Despite how hard he tried to hide it, Bobby knew instantly when Darien began to sob. Placing the compress on the nightstand with the thermometer, Hobbes tugged on the younger man's arm, encouraging him to turn from his right side to his left, so that the two were face to face. Bobby then wrapped his arms around his partner, drawing Darien's head down to his chest, and continued to talk softly until the other finally fell asleep. "Scared is okay.... weak is okay.... whatever you feel is okay, buddy.... just don't stack it all up inside.... you can tell me anything.... I'm right here.... I'm not goin' anywhere, ever again...." ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ WEDNESDAY MORNING  
  
"Bobby... hold up a minute..."  
  
Hobbes halted a foot or two from the bedroom door, mentally kicking himself for forgetting his watch and having to come back for it.  
  
"Sorry, Fawkes. I was tryin' not to wake you up."  
  
"I know. It's okay... look, I'm no worse, but I'm no better. I'm gonna go in to the Agency with you an' Claire."  
  
"You're okay. I checked your temp an' it's only up a couple tenths of a degree. Not enough to stress over...."  
  
"I'm not stressing. I.... I'd just feel safer knowin' she's close by if....."  
  
"Yeah, there's too many 'ifs' for comfort. I get it. Okay. You can come. Take your time gettin' ready. I can wait an' so can the Fish."  
  
"Gimme an hour?"  
  
"Sure. I'll go let Claire know the yellow caution flag is out."  
  
"Thanks, man."  
  
"No problemo."  
  
When the soon-to-be parents finally settled in Golda and Bobby turned the key, Darien grimaced at the music pouring from the radio.  
  
"Not again. How can you listen to this stuff, Hobbes?"  
  
"I still don't like everything on country radio.... but I've heard some songs that really.... moved me."  
  
"To throw up?"  
  
"Fine. You keep that mind closed, Fawkes. You'll miss a lotta good music. It's kinda weird.... the first song I taped for you, the Jim Croce tune? When I heard it on Claire's radio it was almost like.... nah. Forget it. I can't explain."  
  
"Try again. Please?"  
  
"You're gonna laugh."  
  
"No way. I promise. Tell me."  
  
The magic words tugged on Bobby's heart and he couldn't refuse Darien's request.  
  
"It.... it was like somebody knew I'd be listenin' right then.... an' they picked a song that was exactly what I needed to hear. That was just the first time. The day I came back from the mountains, it happened again. I had to go in an' face Claire without clue one what to say. I had the radio on real soft while I tried to chill out, ya know? This was playin'... " Bobby said, rummaging for a tape in the console between the seats and popping it into the van's cassette player. "It kinda scared me. The lyric hit me like a sucker punch an' I knew what I was supposed to do. I've actually been wantin' you to hear this ever since that night..."  
  
By the time Bobby parked the van in the underground garage, the song had finished, but he was forced to brush away a tear that he hadn't been able to hold back. A quick glance at his partner told Hobbes the song had affected Darien in much the same way.  
  
"Bobby.... is that how you still see yourself? A loser who can't do anything right?"  
  
"Not so much anymore..... not when I'm around you. That day, though, sittin' there an' thinkin about why I left, hatin' myself for hurtin' you that way.... all of a sudden every word was makin' sense. The line about askin' forgiveness.... it really hit home. I knew I had to apologize, even if you kept on bein' mad at me after I did it."  
  
"Did it happen that way with every song you've put on my tape?"  
  
"Most of 'em. Sometimes the right song just popped into my head at crazy times; in the middle of a firefight, or in bed just before I fell asleep."  
  
"Huh. The song... it was wrong about a lot of things, Bobby. You're not a loser and you do a hell of a lot right, especially lately, but that part at the end.... that was on the money. Nobody could ask for stronger devotion than yours. Thanks for playin' that for me, thanks for my tape.... thanks for everything."  
  
Darien leaned over and pecked Bobby on the cheek, then made his way out of the van. He'd taken a few steps toward the elevator when he realized Hobbes was still sitting behind the wheel, apparently having trouble absorbing his partner's words. The younger man walked back to the partially open driver's side window and tweaked Hobbes' ear.  
  
"Hey! What was that for?"  
  
"To wake you up, partner. You gonna get out of the van sometime today?"  
  
" 'Course I am! Can't a man take a minute to think?"  
  
"Not when he's already late for work. Let's get goin."  
  
Stepping out of the elevator and into the first floor hallway, an intense cramp struck Darien. Unprepared, he gasped and dropped to one knee beside Bobby.  
  
"Fawkes! What happened? You okay?"  
  
"Yeah.... gi.... gimme a minute.... I'll be fine... help me up?"  
  
"Damn. I never shoulda said yes to you comin' in with me...." Bobby grumbled as he carefully tugged the other man back to his feet. "I'm takin' you straight to the Keep."  
  
"No... no you're not. I'll be okay. Just back off..."  
  
Bobby ignored Darien this time and laid the back of his hand against his partner's forehead.  
  
"Yeah, right. You're burnin' up. The Keep. Now, Fawkes!"  
  
"No! I.... I'm just a little dizzy.... All I need is to lay down an' your office couch'll do fine."  
  
"Darien...."  
  
"I said no. If it gets worse after a couple hours, I promise I'll find Claire. Go see the Fish before he comes lookin' for you."  
  
Recognizing Darien's 'I-don't wanna-and-you-can't-make-me' look for the brick wall it was, Hobbes gave in marginally.  
  
"I'm comin' up in the elevator with you."  
  
"I know how to push a button, Bobby! Jeez Louise...."  
  
"Either you accept me as a body-guard or you tell me what *really* happened a minute ago."  
  
"Fine. Let's move. I really need to get off my feet."  
  
Riding up with Bobby hovering at his elbow, Darien struggled with the lingering effects of the previous cramp while simultaneously praying another one wouldn't occur until he was safely on the office couch.  
  
"You shoulda stayed home, Darien. You know Claire an' I both woulda taken the day off to be with you."  
  
"And get your asses chewed by the fat man on my account? No way."  
  
"Who cares if he gets ticked with any of us? After what Eberts told us he's plannin'..."  
  
"You're not supposed to be worrying about that, remember? Ebes said he had it covered." Darien reminded his partner as the slowly made their way down the hall and into Bobby's office.  
  
"Yeah, what else should I do? I still don't completely trust the little ferret to come through. This is our baby we're talkin' about. The stakes don't get any higher."  
  
"I do trust him. He's the only hope there is, Bobby. What other choice do we have?"  
  
"None, I guess. Just the thought of it scares me to death."  
  
"I know, but remember what you told me; keep the king dragon happy and the villagers stay alive for one more day, right? I'm gonna lay down an' rest, you go do your job, brave St. George."  
  
"It's been a while since I heard that story. Didn't he end up charcoal?"  
  
"No clue." Darien admitted as he slowly laid down on his side. "I don't remember."  
  
"Great. Hope he's in a decent mood or I'll end up a burnt offerin'." Bobby joked halfheartedly. "You start feelin' a lot worse you call me an' I'll help you get to the Keep. The very second it happens, you got it?"  
  
"I got it, Bobby. I swear."  
  
"You better. I'll be back in about an hour, okay?"  
  
"Okay. Go, will you?"  
  
"I'm goin'. I may not want to.... but I'm goin."  
  
As Bobby closed the door, another cramp rippled through Darien's abdomen. Both hands curled into fists, his eyes squeezed shut and a groan was forced through clenched teeth. When it finally subsided, the breath he'd been holding rushed back out in the form of a relieved sigh and Darien said a silent prayer of thanks for the fact that, whatever was happening to him, it had at least had the timing to wait until Hobbes was gone. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ THIRTY MINUTES LATER  
  
"Yeah, well think again. Fawkes is on maternity leave, remember? The only reason he came in at all today was 'cause he was feelin' sick an' he wanted to be close to the Keeper. If you don't believe it, that ain't my problem." Bobby informed their boss in a low growl.  
  
Eberts, sitting in a corner of the office, turned from the phone he held to his ear for a moment in order to reassure himself that Bobby, despite his tone of voice, was not about to do something foolish. After a moment, the Official's former indispensable lackey returned to his conversation.  
  
"He's in the room with you?"  
  
"Yes, of course. Absolutely."  
  
"You don't have to speak then, just listen. This will be have to be our last conversation, I'm afraid. You won't be able to reach me here any longer. Hopefully I've done my part adequately enough so there should be no need to. It's all up to you now, Albert. You're stronger than anyone gives you credit for, especially yourself. It's time to show that strength. I believe in you.... so do your friends. I know you can do what must be done. It's been a great pleasure knowing you, Albert. Farewell."  
  
The caller disconnected, but Eberts maintained a pretense of actively listening and responding for a few more minutes.  
  
"I understand. Yes. Right away. I see. Yes. Good-bye."  
  
Before slipping the phone back into his pocket, Eberts deleted the number he'd been using to communicate with his long-distance co-conspirator. Tuning back in to the argument between Agent Hobbes and the Official, the accountant realized he was being spoken to. "I'm sorry, sir. That was a rather urgent phone call. Did you need something of me?"  
  
"Mostly your attention. I want you to go upstairs and check on Fawkes."  
  
"Sir? I understood Agent Fawkes was ill and...."  
  
"I say different. I say he's got some ulterior motive for being here. On second thought, I want you to go get him and bring him to me."  
  
"An' I said no!" Bobby insisted, sitting forward in his seat. "He needs rest, not an interrogation!"  
  
"Are you seriously sitting there defying me, Hobbes? With your child only a few weeks away from being born, do you really want to risk everything you made me put in that contract?"  
  
"I'm not the one who stands to lose it all. The way Claire feels about you right now, if Fawkes an' I have to take off 'cause of your stupidity an' nasty attitude, you *seriously* think the Keepie an' the blue goo ain't goin' with us?"  
  
"She wouldn't dare..."  
  
"Yeah? Think about it a minute. You'll change your mind."  
  
"Robert... it's alright. I will go look in on Agent Fawkes, sir. If he's sleeping, however, I would ask that I not be forced to disturb him. As you said, he is in the last few weeks of pregnancy. Sleep is vital to him right now..."  
  
"Fine, but if he's awake, I want him in this office pronto."  
  
"Yes, sir. I understand."  
  
As he passed, Eberts gave Bobby's shoulder a quick squeeze to remind the other man that he did have people on his side. Hobbes acknowledged the touch with a brief glance into Ebert's eyes and a tight smile then turned his attention back to the Official  
  
"Understand one thing. If anything happens to Fawkes or our little girl, you'll regret it 'till I can't throw another punch."  
  
"Is that a threat, Hobbes? I'd laugh if I thought the concept was worth wasting breath on."  
  
"Trust me, if either one a'them ends up hurt, in any way, shape or form, you won't be laughin' for a couple months.... at least." Bobby vowed, standing and stalking away. The Official's voice stopped him at the doorway, but only for a moment.  
  
"Do you realize how long you could be locked up for threatening a superior with bodily harm?"  
  
"As if I'm worried. My priorities are finally in order, Charlie. I know what's important now, an' it ain't you or your stupid orders or your damn job. Go ahead. Try an' have me locked up. I couldn't care less." ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Agent Fawkes? Darien? Are you awake?"  
  
"Barely. C'mon in, Ebes."  
  
One look told Eberts all he needed to know about how Darien was feeling, so he didn't bother to ask. Immediately he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, rushed to kneel by the sofa where Darien lay and began mopping away the sweat from the other's neck and face.  
  
"You didn't keep your promise, did you?"  
  
"I did too.... kinda.... okay, not so much. I was too scared... I wanted to hold onto the idea that there's nothing wrong with the baby.... lemme believe that a little longer...."  
  
"Darien, please don't cry..... There may not be a problem, but Claire is the only one who can tell you that. It's time to tell her what's going on."  
  
"No! Not yet...."  
  
"You can't delay any longer. It's obvious you need help...."  
  
"You help me then."  
  
"Darien! I'm a CPA, not a doctor!"  
  
"Please...."  
  
Eberts agonized for a minute or two then hit on an idea.  
  
"Alright, we'll wait a few minutes, but I am going to call her, Darien, regardless. Try and describe to me exactly what it is you're feeling so I can relay it to Claire."  
  
"I told you last night.... cramps... way down low in my belly.... they've been gettin' a lot worse since about midnight... damn... speak of the devil an' he shows up...."  
  
Eberts gave Darien his hand to grip and talked him through the next cycle.  
  
"Is it better now?"  
  
"Yeah.... better."  
  
A moment later, Eberts' worried frown exploded into a smile and his face lit up like a light bulb. Darien began to wonder if he'd slipped a gear.  
  
"It isn't that terrific, Ebes. It'll be back."  
  
"I know and that's what's made me so happy. I believe I understand what's happening to you, Darien and it isn't bad news at all. It's quite good, in fact. Yes. Unexpected, but very good news. Tell me, does your lower back ache as well?"  
  
"Like the fat man's sittin' on it. Why? What do you think you know?"  
  
"One more question. Just bear with me, alright? You said you've only really been bothered by the "cramps" since around twelve. Does it feel like the pains are coming closer together now than they have been?"  
  
"Yeah, but what does that have to do with..."  
  
"It's been about fourteen hours give or take, depending, of course on when you woke up yesterday..... plus another ten and a half or thereabouts.... The cyclic and increasing nature of the pain, the backache.... it all fits. I'm right. I'm sure of it."  
  
"Sure of what?! I'm in no mood for brain teasers here..."  
  
"Well, of course not, seeing as you're moving into the active stage of your labor. You have far more important things to focus on."  
  
"Active... repeat that one more time?"  
  
"Labor, Darien. I believe your body is preparing to give birth." Eberts announced confidently, pulling out his cell phone and dialing the Keep. "Claire? It's Albert. You need to come to Robert's office right away. Oh, no, nothing's wrong. Something is very right. Darien is in labor and... Claire? Hello? Oh, well. I'll assume she's on her way." he murmured, gazing at his watch as he dialed a second time. "Yes, sir. Is Agent.... oh. I see. No, sir. Nothing vital. I'll seek him elsewhere. Good-bye, sir."  
  
Turning back to Darien, Eberts, one eye still on the time, began to instruct the other man on what he needed to do. "Alright, Darien. Tell me when the next contraction begins. The time won't be anywhere close to exact, but if I can even get it close it will be better than nothing..."  
  
"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!? I CAN'T BE HAVING CONTRACTIONS, EBERTS!!!" Darien roared, moving halfway into a sitting position. His outburst disarranged Eberts' hair a bit but didn't faze the unflappable accountant.  
  
"Fine. Call them cramps if it helps you to cope. That's an excellent idea, by the way. Let's sit you all the way up. You'll be moving to a wheelchair soon and it'll save time if you're already part of the way to getting on your feet."  
  
Just then another contraction struck and Eberts needed no verbal cue from Darien. He offered both hands this time and they were gladly accepted. "Easy, Darien. You're going to make it through this. Close your eyes. That's it. I want you to blow out three short breaths and then one long one. Listen to how I'm doing it.... and breathe with me. You can do it, Darien.... there. Good. Keep breathing just like that until the pain starts to fade. Focus on your breathing.... excellent."  
  
"It hurts.... too much.... I can't.... I'm not..... strong enough...."  
  
"Yes, you are. You have reserves of strength you never dreamed of. Think of why you're suffering, Darien.... why you're enduring the pain...."  
  
"Bobbi...."  
  
"That's right. I'll go find Robert in a minute, just as soon as this contraction eases and Claire is here to stay with you."  
  
Even though the pain was slowly retreating, Darien didn't have the energy or the voice to correct Eberts' error. He felt as if the contractions were draining everything from him, leaving him barely able to breathe at all, never mind keep up the pattern Eberts had shown him.  
  
"Claire... need Claire... where is she...."  
  
"I know. She'll be here soon, I'm sure..."  
  
Darien's keeper made good on that promise a moment later, rushing into the office so fast she skidded on the floor tiles and just missed crashing into the desk.  
  
"Darien?"  
  
"He's alright, doctor. I just finished timing his most recent contraction. It isn't accurate by any means, but I did what I could. Twelve to fifteen minutes apart and a little over three minutes in duration is the best I can do, I'm afraid."  
  
"That's wonderful, Albert. Thank you for seeing him through this. Twelve to fifteen minutes.... not critical mass just yet. That at least gives us some time to set things up."  
  
"Claire!" Darien yelled, finally having regained his voice and a little energy. "Tell this nut-job that I am not in labor!"  
  
"I can't do that, sweetheart. You *are*."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"I feared this might happen, but I didn't want to frighten you any worse than I already had. On your ultrasound yesterday I could have sworn the QS placenta had shrunk, just the tiniest bit. If it continued to do that in a regular, timed pattern it would have begun to pull more and more strongly on the abdominal muscles it's attached to, causing a sensation very like contractions."  
  
"It can't be! You said thirty- eight weeks!"  
  
"I also said she was developing a little faster than I expected. I would've preferred to wait, but we're on her schedule, Darien, not ours. She's saying she's ready. Or she will be in a few hours, at any rate."  
  
While he struggled through the contraction and regained his strength afterward, Darien had bowed his head, chin tucked into his chest. Now he lifted his eyes and locked his gaze onto Claire's. The look he gave her settled a layer of frost over her bones..  
  
"Hours? You better repeat that again.... I don't think I heard you right...."  
  
"The operating room isn't set up, the staff isn't all here... Waiting for your contractions to get a little closer together will give me time to prepare."  
  
"Speaking of that, I have some preparations of my own to make and a few things to finish. Will you be alright here alone with him?" Eberts asked Claire.  
  
"Go on. We'll be fine."  
  
"His next contraction should begin in five to seven minutes. I taught him the Lamaze breathing. I saw it on The Learning Channel, I think, so most likely I've gotten it wrong.... feel free to correct any error I may have made. I'll find Robert and send him up to relieve you before I do anything else."  
  
"By the time he gets here I have a feeling I'll be immensely glad to see him." Claire chuckled. "Go ahead. Finish out your plans. Darien and I will be alright."  
  
"I hope so. I'll return as soon as I can."  
  
Eberts strode hurriedly out of the room and took the elevator down to the ground floor. His search was fruitless for several minutes until he stepped outside and caught sight of Bobby just walking slowly around the corner of the building.  
  
"Robert! I'm so glad I found you."  
  
"You look freaked. Somethin' wrong with Fawkes?"  
  
"Nothing, but you're needed upstairs. Who can explain how or why, but he's having contractions. Darien is in labor, Robert! It looks like you'll see your little girl a bit earlier than you thought!" Eberts exclaimed joyfully.  
  
"Labor.... you mean.... the baby's comin' now?! In my office?!"  
  
"Not right this minute, of course. There are hours yet, but Claire is with him and she needs a replacement so she can get things ready for the Cesarean-section...."  
  
Before Eberts could get another word out, Hobbes leapt into the air, pumped his fist and ran off at full speed. The other watched him go, wishing the joy of the moment didn't have to be tinged with such sadness and bitterness for him alone. With that thought, he moved back inside to spread the negativity and do some good at the same time.  
  
There had been a time when he'd believed he understood the Official completely, knew every aspect of him; pleasant and difficult, strong and weak. The file he was about to make use of had proved him wrong beyond his worst imaginings. Drawing and expelling a few deep breaths, Eberts stepped over the threshold of Charles Borden's office, ready, at last, to put an end to a friendship he'd once cherished.  
  
"Eberts? What's all the running back and forth out there? I can't hear myself think."  
  
"It's a wonderful day, sir. Darien's baby has decided to arrive early."  
  
{Damn. That pushes up the time frame.} "Really? That is good news, now get out, Eberts. I have private calls to make."  
  
The first fracture already worming its way through his heart, Eberts strode quickly to his employer's desk, wrenched the phone receiver from his hand and replaced it in the cradle.  
  
"I don't think so, Charles. We need to talk."  
  
"Charles, is it? So the mouse finally learns to squeak." The Official taunted, rising to his feet.  
  
"Mouse?" Eberts chuckled. "Perhaps at one time that was, sadly, true, but.... as you'll soon discover, this mouse learned well at his master's knee. Well enough to self-evolve into a rat. Rats not only squeak, they bite. You'd do well to remember that.... and sit down."  
  
His smug arrogant grin slipping faintly into tight-lipped disgust, the Official slowly sank back into his chair. Eberts claimed the seat directly across the desk, crossed one leg over the other and smoothed the material of his slacks before continuing. "Excellent. Now to business. I'm quite aware of your plan for Darien and Robert's child. I can't allow it to happen."  
  
"You can't... Who in hell do you think you are?"  
  
"Noone, I suppose. That's what you've always believed, to my advantage of course. I'm nothing but your weak right hand.... the one who knows things about you I'm *certain* you don't want the state or federal authorities to learn about, not to mention your so-called subordinates here at the Agency."  
  
The Official's faint disgust now turned to fear, perfectly controlled everywhere but in his eyes. Eberts saw this and decided to increase the pressure.  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"Hmm? Oh, there are so many to choose from. Let me think.... shall we discuss the appalling exploits of a twelve-year-old boy with quite an interesting collection of mental.... aberrations? I'm sure the eight-year- old girl he attacked carried the physical and emotional scars well into adulthood, if not to her grave. She committed suicide at twenty-two, you see."  
  
"How did you.... that juvenile record was sealed."  
  
"I unsealed it. Simple, really. That's the least I can do and the *very* least of the nauseating, life and career decimating, sword-of-Damocles secrets I'm in possession of. I expect right now you're realizing what a mistake you made taking me into your confidence and allowing me to become so close to you over all these years. You're right, of course, but it's far too late to correct your fatal error now."  
  
"The unmitigated.... you little son of a...."  
  
"Ah-ah. No foul language if you don't mind. It only degrades you in front of your employees."  
  
"What... do you want?"  
  
"Right to the heart of the matter. I like that. As stated in the agreement you made with Darien and Robert, you will leave their child in their custody and you will leave her strictly alone. Her life will to be hers to live until the age of twenty-five, at which point she will be offered, you'll notice I didn't say shanghaied into, a contract with the Agency. In return, I agree to keep my mouth and my files closed to your superiors, all levels of law-enforcement and the media."  
  
Abruptly, the Official's arrogance was back, but Eberts banished it as quickly as it showed up.  
  
"I never signed that contract. The only thing I'm obligated to do is blow your deceiving, betraying brain out the back of your head." He snarled, reaching to the desk drawer on his left.  
  
"Charles Borden! You wound and insult me! With your forgetful and neglectful attitude toward vital paperwork, this agency would have collapsed or gone bankrupt years ago if I couldn't forge your signature. At this point, not even an expert graphologist could tell the difference. The relevant portions of the body of the contract have been altered as well. Just in case you were wondering."  
  
The Official could do nothing but stare at his former assistant, dumbfounded. His expression was a classic portrait of boiling, frustrated rage barely under control. "Shall I take your silence as a sign of capitulation?"  
  
"You talk as if I had a choice."  
  
"True, you don't, but neither did that innocent unborn child.... until now. I believe I'll go check on Darien and Robert." Eberts announced, rising to leave. "Oh dear. I almost forgot the most important part. I keep my job, but the final say on what work I do is mine."  
  
"What? You can't seriously...."  
  
"You can't seriously think I'm giving up being able to keep an eye on you. See you on Monday, Charles."  
  
"It's only Wednesday."  
  
"Yes and I've deserved a long weekend for a very long time. Squeak..... sir." ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Robert? How is everything going?"  
  
"Except for havin' my hands in casts for the next six weeks, I'm fine. He's freakin' out...."  
  
"He has a right to. He's in excruciating pain. Darien? You're going to be alright. You'll be getting medication soon and then the pain will go away."  
  
"Now! Drugs.... now!"  
  
"As soon as Claire returns...."  
  
"NOW!!!"  
  
"Darien, calm down. Claire is the only one who can give you what you need. You'll have to wait a little longer..."  
  
As he sat watching his partner in such terrible agony, Bobby's guilt overwhelmed him.  
  
"I'm so sorry, kid. I should've known somethin' was up last night. I should've made you go to the Keep this mornin'.... I'm just so sorry I didn't see..."  
  
"You should be sorry.... on second thought... you are.... you're the... sorriest thing.... I've ever seen. Get.... get the hell out...." Darien growled as another contraction wound down.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Did I.... not make it clear enough? Get out!"  
  
"Darien.... hey, I know you're hurtin' but I'm just tryin' to help here...."  
  
"Help? Help?! That's a laugh! Haven't you done enough already? You did this to me! You're the reason I'm as big as a damn two-story house! I used to have a perfect body 'till *you* came along! I'll never get that back.... I'll never fit into my favorite clothes.... I can never go to the beach again because YOU GAVE ME STRETCH MARKS!"  
  
When Bobby reached up to stroke Darien's cheek, hoping to soothe him, his hand was slapped away. "Don't... touch me. If you ever touch me again, I will happily rip your lungs out through your navel.... get him outta my sight, Eberts, before I do somethin' he'll regret...."  
  
Eberts flashed a thin, extremely uneasy smile at Hobbes.  
  
"Perhaps you'd better go, Robert, just for now."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Trust me, once he's been medicated for the pain, he'll want you by his side again. Besides, if you're to be in the room during the procedure, you need to go get properly dressed, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess..."  
  
"It's the contractions talking, Robert. He'll be alright. I'll watch over him. Go on. You know Claire won't allow you within ten feet of that operating theater if you aren't sterile."  
  
"Sterilize Hobbes.... There's an idea I can get behind...." came a last missive from the couch as Bobby reluctantly moved out the door.  
  
Once his partner was out of sight, Darien's mood shifted radically. "This can't be happening, Eberts..... the apartment's not ready, I'm not ready.... God, make it stop..."  
  
Sobbing heavily, Darien leaned forward into Eberts' arms. His friend, despite discomfort and confusion, held him and spoke quietly.  
  
"It's alright, Darien. We'll see you through this. You know you can stay at Claire's until your new home is finished. In fact if you moved out right away and she didn't have at least a little time with the baby, I don't think she'd ever forgive you."  
  
"I'm so scared.... I... I can't be what she needs... I can't teach her what I don't know...."  
  
"Shhhh. Stop, now. I understand. Try to let all that go for the moment, alright? Just focus on what it will be like to hold her in your arms for the first time.... see the color of her eyes....the shape of her nose.... her tiny fingers reaching up for you. Hear her laughing. Nothing else matters but that..."  
  
Eberts paused when he heard an orderly enter behind him, rolling a wheelchair into the room. "Okay, Darien. Time to go...."  
  
"No! Not yet... please...."  
  
"I'm going with you. I won't leave your side, I promise, but we have to go now."  
  
"Drugs?"  
  
"Absolutely. Straight to the land of no-more-pain. Can you stand, just for a second, or do you need me to...."  
  
"I'm okay. I can do it."  
  
When Darien tried to stand on his own he found his knees far too unstable to support him, so he ended up taking help after all. Eberts grasped his elbow tightly and held him up for the second or two it took to transfer from the couch to the chair.  
  
"I can take it from here young man." Eberts told the attendant as he nudged him out of the way and took control of the wheelchair.  
  
"But sir, the doctor told me...."  
  
"I know. I simply feel more... secure this way. I know where we're going. You're welcome to come along if you stay in my sight at all times."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"And I'm not going to explain. Just take my paranoia at face value and precede us out of the room if you don't mind?" ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ONE HOUR LATER  
  
Standing to the left of Darien's bed, Bobby wrapped his partner's arms more securely around his neck and stared over the younger man's shoulder as Claire prepared to administer the spinal block.  
  
"This is the hardest part, kid. It don't get rougher than this, I promise. You can handle one needle..."  
  
"No! The pain isn't so bad now.... I don't need it.... make her stop, Bobby, please...."  
  
"It's okay to be scared, partner. Scares me too.... Just hang on real tight.... we'll get through it together, okay? Lean into me a little more.... good. Remember what Claire said... take a deep breath in an' hold it for a count of ten. Ready? Deep breath.... hold it... count in your head with me.... 3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10. There. All done. You made it, buddy. It's all over now..."  
  
By the time Bobby finished counting, tears were flowing freely down the faces of both men. They clung to each other for a few extra seconds then Bobby gently laid Darien back down. When he saw the betrayal and fury on Darien's face, Hobbes' heart came very close to breaking. "I'm sorry, kid. I had to...."  
  
"You knew.... I told you how I felt and you still.... get away from me."  
  
Bobby opened his mouth to justify his actions but Claire dragged him into the nearby scrub room before he could make things worse for himself.  
  
"Don't bother, Bobby. Until the medication kicks in he really isn't totally responsible for what he's saying."  
  
"I know. He's right though.... I did put him here. I'm the one who had the beer that night.... I hurt him then.... I'm hurtin' him now...."  
  
"Bobby, no. Stop it right this minute. You didn't hold Darien's mouth open and force the alcohol down his throat and I never said that what happened between you wasn't consensual. As far as I can tell, it absolutely was. Being stinking drunk eroded your normal control and you ended up getting a little.... enthusiastic, but the damage to Darien's body was minor. Nowhere near what it would have been if he'd been fighting or pushing you away and you had... insisted. This wasn't an assault on your part. You would never hurt him. The beer didn't alter your basic personality, Bobby. It simply lowered your inhibitions. You two did the rest all by yourselves."  
  
"But... I'm not.... he's not...."  
  
"I never said you were. It's extremely unlikely that either of you would ever consider doing that again, drunk or sober, and that's alright. You sleep in the same bed but I'd wager the thought of sexual contact has never crossed your minds. You do it for comfort, protection and emotional closeness."  
  
"You've known all along? And you never said anything?"  
  
"I do notice what goes on in my own house, Bobby. When you were gone and he wasn't sleeping more than an hour or two a night, I put two and two together. I haven't spoken up because it was obvious how much you and Darien needed each other. I suppose I was afraid that even a word from me could put the kibosh on the bond you were building. I wouldn't have destroyed that for anything."  
  
"I... I understand all that, every word you're saying. It's just..."  
  
"You have to stop living in the past and wishing you could change what you and Darien did. It happened, Bobby. It happens every day. Two people make love and a child results from that love. Accept that moment, that one night, for what it was and be grateful for what it's brought you. The mother of your child loves you, trusts you and is going through hell on your behalf and as much as he feels for you, your daughter will multiply that by a million. The past is done with. Don't throw away all you have because you refuse to stop regretting and start living."  
  
"Okay. You're right. How do I do that?"  
  
"I can't give you an answer. It's something you'll have to work out for yourself. The surgical scrubs and such are over there. They go on over your clothes. Take a few minutes, get dressed then come back in and talk to Darien. I can almost guarantee he'll be in a much more mellow mood by then."  
  
Claire favored Bobby with a soft, sweet smile, then turned and left, one hand held protectively over the pocket of her lab coat.  
  
When she returned to Darien's bedside, she was relieved to find that what she'd promised Bobby was true. Her charge was relaxing nicely.  
  
"I think you're feeling better. Glad to see it."  
  
"Yeah. Loads. Where's Bobby? He is still here isn't he?"  
  
"Of course. He's changing into proper clothes for the operating room. You look thoroughly embarrassed. What's wrong?"  
  
"I said some stuff before.... really nasty stuff. I gotta tell him I didn't mean any of it."  
  
"Yes. I heard an abridged version from Albert. Pain does tend to short circuit the brain's etiquette center, I'm afraid. He knows it wasn't exactly you in control back there, Darien. He understands."  
  
"I still wanna tell him...."  
  
"And you'll be able to when he finishes dressing. Left hand please."  
  
"My pulse is okay. I'm calming down a lot, just like you said..."  
  
"I don't need to check your pulse, I need to insert your I.V. line."  
  
"More needles? Man..."  
  
"I know, but it's the only way you'll be getting fluids for a while. It makes it easier to administer other medications as well." she explained, drawing a small case from her pocket and laying it aside while she started the I.V.  
  
"What is that?"  
  
"Something special." she told him, pushing a tiny amount of fluid out of the syringe she'd extracted from the case. "This might not do what I want it to. I can only pray I got it right." Claire murmured as she injected the contents of the hypodermic into the port and watched it mingle with the medications slowly dripping down the flexible tubing. "This might burn a bit as it hits your bloodstream... similar to how the counteragent feels. Just... try and remain as still as you can until the sensation goes away, alright?"  
  
"Okay. Whatever you say...."  
  
As the mixture entered his veins, Darien's eyes flew open wide and his body went rigid. For a long, terrifying moment, Claire was certain something had gone very wrong, but eventually his tense posture relaxed, his eyes narrowed and he began to breathe harshly.  
  
"Damn.... what the hell did you do.... the blue stuff never felt like that...."  
  
"I know. Darien... can I see your tattoo a moment?"  
  
"Sure.... you might have to lift my arm up for me.... whatever that was it sapped all the energy I had left."  
  
Claire did as he suggested, but for the first few seconds she couldn't bear to open her eyes, deeply afraid of what she might see or not see. When the team had first conceived the tattoo for Darien, Claire had been the only one who held out hope that Arnaud's intentional genetic manipulation could ever be reversed, the only one who saw Darien Fawkes as a human and not merely a flawed experiment to be callously discarded when it inevitably failed.  
  
Knowing she would never rest until she found the solution, Claire, unbeknownst to the others, had added an extra feature to the snake design. When she discovered and administered the formula to repair the gland's flaw, her confirmation of success would be watching the snake's head vanish and all of its segments become empty; in essence the snake would be decapitated, dead; leached of color and life in the process of restoring Darien's humanity.  
  
Finally, Claire forced herself to open her eyes and face the truth, however painful that truth might be. What she saw brought immediate tears to her eyes and she leaned down to embrace Darien. The emotion was so overwhelming that she had to whisper in his ear, finding her full voice had been stolen.  
  
"I did it, sweetheart. I did it.... it worked, Darien.... you're free.... you're free..."  
  
"What... what are you saying, Claire? I don't understand..."  
  
"Your tattoo.... look at it...." she whispered, pulling back to allow him to see.  
  
"What happened? Why does it look like that?"  
  
"Arnaud's notes. I... I've been working ever since we got them back.... I didn't want to tell you in case I couldn't make it work.... but it was the final piece of the puzzle I needed to free you.... It's over."  
  
"You mean it? No more blue goo.... no more QSM..... no more of any of it?"  
  
"No, sweetie. No more. I'm just sorry it took this long...."  
  
"Hey.... you did all you could with what you had. I thought I got out of prison years ago.... but it feels like I just got paroled for real...."  
  
"Better than parole. No restrictions, no reporting to anyone once a week... you have your life back."  
  
"You almost got that right. You gave me the right to *live* my life..... Bobby *is* my life. I'll never be able to pay you guys back for what you've done...."  
  
Just then, Bobby shuffled back into the room, the paper covers on his shoes swishing with every step.  
  
"Pay us back? For what? What'd I miss?" ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TBC: To Be Completed...  
  
Sorry everyone, but I have to break this chapter up into two pieces. It's just gettin' too dang long! I tried to keep it reasonable but, like the best ones do, the story had a mind of its own. It could also be that my muse Heraldo gets upset when I'm expedient at the cost of a full rich plot. Muses can be real pains in the butt, but where would we be without them, hmm? In writer's-block hell that's where! 


	20. Week 35: Endgame Conclusion

Week 35: Part Two: Story Conclusion  
  
(The epilogue is mostly for Pretender fans, but feel free to get someone to give you a brief synopsis of that show and the relevant character if you feel like reading the last piece. I've loved writing this and I loved the amazing response I got to it. There may be more coming, once I've gotten my other WIP's on the move again. Thanks for being such awesome readers. You truly are the greatest.) ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
TRIO- ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
'Nothing in any book anywhere says that we have total control over our lives. Destiny is a legitimate, logical, plausible concept for a lot of people. I'm one of them. I truly believe that things sometimes happen for a reason. It isn't always our reason, or even one we understand, but there you are. It is what it is. The people we eventually meet and fall in love with (we're talking my heart was here a minute ago, me and you forever, leave me and I'll die of a broken heart, love) are rarely the ones we would have chosen for ourselves, given a cup of coffee and a few minutes to think about it.  
  
They're the ones we're supposed to be with, supposed to have children with, children who might not change the world the way they're destined to if they didn't receive a specific combination of genes, chromosomes and parental personality. If we always chose our own path in love, if that intangible... whoever didn't nudge us toward the right one, what a sad, desperate and painful world this would be....'  
  
Tariv Ginck- Beings Together: The Art and Architecture of Love ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
Just at that moment, Eberts strolled back into the anteroom where the other three waited. When Claire had announced she was about to administer the spinal block, his stomach had leapt into his throat and he'd beat a hasty retreat into his safe world of paper and numbers, promising to return when the procedure was over.  
  
"Albert. Your timing is impeccable. Come hear some very good news."  
  
"I have some of my own. An even trade?"  
  
"Fine. You look as if you're about to burst so I'll go second. What is it?"  
  
"My plan went off without a hitch. Your little girl will be perfectly safe from the Official, gentlemen. He won't dare lay a finger on her and he won't be recruiting anyone else to do it either. Not if he knows what's good for him."  
  
Though the medication was finally beginning to make him drowsy, Darien forced his eyelids open and managed a tired smile for Eberts.  
  
"You're incredible, man.... thanks isn't half enough...."  
  
"Please. My actions weren't entirely altruistic. I did get a perk or two for myself out of the scheme. So let's hear your good news, Claire. You look as if you're chomping at the bit, yourself."  
  
"Arnaud's notes were the key I've been waiting for all these years. I administered the serum this morning and it worked! The defect in the gland has been repaired. Darien is finally free."  
  
"Oh.... oh my. This is an exceptional day.... Darien? Is he alright, doctor?"  
  
"He's just dozing. For him it's been a stressful, exhausting day. If he can sleep then his pain is sufficiently damped to perform the C-section I think. You can wait here if you like, Albert. Bobby, you go wait for me in the scrub room, alright?"  
  
"No way. I said I wouldn't leave him alone..."  
  
"As did I. I don't feel right breaking that promise...."  
  
"Okay, okay." Claire chuckled, amused by their overprotectiveness. "Both of you go to the scrubroom. Show him where everything is, Bobby, would you? I'll be there as soon as I can to get you both washed up." ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Bobby..... Bobby, hold still or I'll never get this mask tied."  
  
"Hey, don't be bustin' my chops here, Claire. I got a right to be nervous. This is my kid about to be born!"  
  
"I was aware of that, actually." she laughed gently. "Okay. Over here, both of you. Do exactly as I do, alright?"  
  
Swiftly, Claire led the men through the procedure for sterilizing their hands and arms. "Okay, hands up and away from the body. Back through the doors and don't touch anything or you'll have to start all over again. Good."  
  
In just a few minutes, all three were gloved and had taken their positions; Bobby and Eberts on either side of Darien, Claire on the far side of the cloth screen that had been erected to keep mother and cheering section from seeing anything they might wish to avoid.  
  
Darien was slipping in and out of a mildly drowsy state, only half aware of what was happening around him. He kept trying to apologize to Bobby for his harsh words, Hobbes kept trying to quiet him. Neither was having much success until Eberts intervened.  
  
"I'm really sorry.... I didn't mean any of it.... you gotta know that... I was hurtin' so bad.... I'm so sorry, Bobby..."  
  
"I know, Fawkes, I know. Take it easy and don't try an' talk, okay?"  
  
"Don't do that, Bobby.... I really, really am sorry.... Tell me you understand that..."  
  
"I do, I understand. Relax, partner. Just calm down."  
  
"Darien. Look at me. That's it. Close your eyes, Darien."  
  
"I can't.... what if..."  
  
"All the what if's don't matter. Robert and I are right here with you, holding your hands. Claire is taking care of you and the baby. It's safe to close your eyes and drift away for a while if you want to. Go find someplace quiet and peaceful. When you come back your daughter will be in your arms. You're safe, Darien. Safe... go on. Close your eyes. That's right. Good."  
  
Bobby mouthed a silent thank you across the table. Eberts blushed and grinned softly.  
  
For a brief time, Darien floated contentedly in a peaceful fantasy, marginally aware of the pressure of his friend's hands, gliding along on a river and watching remnant memories from the pregnancy move by him. As he passed, he pulled the joyful, intensely loving images and words to his chest and held them close. The heart-rending, painful moments he shrank away from, keeping his gaze averted as they fell behind him and were forgotten.  
  
When Claire made the initial incision and he felt the scalpel slide through his skin, his idyllic dream world fragmented and Darien was thrown back in time three years and into a vivid nightmare. Muddy images of a different room, and a very different surgical procedure, assaulted him, swirling around and becoming enmeshed with what was happening in the world outside his narcotic-weighted mind. The result was chaos, confusion and overwhelming fear.  
  
Bobby's only warning was seeing Darien's eyes fly open and realizing that his partner was whispering 'no' over and over under his breath. Hobbes glanced at Eberts, delivering an unspoken, but clear, message and the two men put all their strength into holding Darien down just before all hell broke loose and Darien began to scream.  
  
"No! No... I won't let you cut me open.... Noooo! Stop it...."  
  
"Fawkes, calm down! It's okay.... you're safe... easy, buddy..."  
  
"Make it stop.... don't let him.... I'll die.... my hands.... my whole body's numb... can't move.... can't make him stop.... I'm dying! Don't let me die.... make it stop! Don't let him...."  
  
Bobby's first thought was to go with what Darien was saying, knowing that if he could understand what the younger man was seeing, the knowledge could be used to break the vision's power. His attempt only made Darien fight harder.  
  
"Stop who, buddy? Tell me an' I'll do it."  
  
"Kevin, don't! Please.... it hurts.... it hurts so bad.... make it stop.... I know I said I would.... I can't.... I'm *not* strong! You don't know.... you don't care... god, let me die... no more pain...."  
  
"Shhh. Hey, partner. You're not dyin'. I won't let anything happen. I won't let you die. Hang on, Darien.... just hang on...." Bobby soothed. "Can you hold him on your own, Ebes? There's one thing I can try, but I need a hand free."  
  
"I'll do my best."  
  
"I'll take it. Darien! Darien, it's Bobby. Ease up, okay? I'm not gonna leave you. Please, buddy.... you gotta hear me, see me...."  
  
As Bobby spoke, he began the familiar ritual of strokes across Darien's forehead, down his nose and over his cheek. Eventually, words gave way in favor of humming his mother's song. To Ebert's surprise, the touches and the soft, off-key music calmed Darien in only a matter of minutes. Though his fears still seemed to hold him captive, he no longer struggled or thrashed and his shouts subsided back to mumbles.  
  
"Robert... that was amazing. How...."  
  
"My mom. It was her way of gettin' me to sleep when I was really scared. Whatever works, ya know?"  
  
"Yes. Absolutely. Whatever works, indeed..."  
  
Suddenly, both men's attention was pulled elsewhere by an excited voice.  
  
"Bobby! Look up! Look here, Bobby!"  
  
Raising his eyes, Bobby was met with the one sight he'd believed he might never witness; a doctor held his child, his beautiful, howling child, in her hands. From one moment to the next, the world doubled and tripled before him as tears of joy clouded his vision and he nearly stopped breathing all together as his body tried to produce deep, racking sobs and joyful laughter at the same time. The baby was immediately placed on Darien's chest, but he was too weak and disoriented to hold her securely, so Bobby swiped at his eyes and reached out to support her. A moment later, Claire was at his side pressing scissors into his hand. "Do it just the way I showed you. Between the clamps... it may be a little difficult to cut... there. Well done."  
  
Lifting the baby away from Darien, Claire turned, but only managed one step before Bobby halted her.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?! Bring her back!"  
  
"It's alright, Bobby. I'm just going to take her to the warming table to have a look at her. You're welcome to join me."  
  
"Oh. Sorry. All this crap with the Fish, it's got me nuts..."  
  
"I know. Come on. Let's get this little miracle cleaned up and see how she's doing, hmmm? There... that's better isn't it darling? Yes, sweetie..... let's have a listen." Claire cooed at the squirming infant as she placed a stethescope on her chest.  
  
"Well? Is she alright?"  
  
"She seems to be. Her heart and breathing are strong.... all toes and fingers present and accounted for. She's perfect as far as I can tell. Perfect and gorgeous."  
  
"If she's breathin' okay, why'd she stop cryin?"  
  
"Perhaps she doesn't feel the need anymore. You know the worst is over, don't you little one?"  
  
Eberts stepped up to the pair just as Claire finished weighing the baby. "Six pounds and eight... no, eight and a half ounces. Very nice."  
  
"Can I hold her now?" Bobby asked, fidgeting with the need to touch the child again, to prove to himself that the past few hours were not just a dream.  
  
"She has to do another test or two and get her wrapped up in a warm blanket, Robert. Why don't you and I go see to Darien while we wait?"  
  
Though his heart screamed at him not to take his eyes off Bobbi, the new father reluctantly allowed himself to be guided back to his partner's side. What he found frightened him enough to call for assistance.  
  
"Fawkes? Hey, wake up, partner. Darien, c'mon, open those big brown eyes for me, buddy. Claire! Claire, help!"  
  
"What's wrong, Bobby?" Claire responded, rushing over to him.  
  
"He's out cold."  
  
"It's alright. I expected this, Bobby. He's lost a significant amount of blood and Quicksilver, the new serum took a lot out of him.... He's used up all his energy reserves just getting to this point. He'll wake up when he's ready." she assured him, turning to receive the tightly swaddled infant from the arms of a nurse then passing the bundle on to Bobby. "Here. You watch over this precious girl while I go get her mum settled in recovery."  
  
"What? Wait.... what do I.... I don't.... I never..... Ah, crap."  
  
"Don't panic, Robert." Eberts reassured him. "You're doing fine. Look at her face. Perfect peace is what I'd call that. She knows you and she trusts you."  
  
"She only trusts me 'cause she *don't* know me. Poor kid has no idea."  
  
"Robert.... you've accepted that Darien has changed a great deal over the two years he's been partnered with you. Why can't you accept that you've undergone just as significant a change?"  
  
"Fawkes' biggest problem was his attitude. Attitude adjustments are a matter of time and effort. My problem.... time ain't gonna solve that and it's not goin' away no matter how hard I try. What's screwed up in my head ain't gonna get fixed just 'cause I want it to be."  
  
"When was the last time you had a serious paranoid episode?"  
  
"It's been a while. A long while. That don't mean squat, though. It don't mean it won't...."  
  
"No. Listen for once. Just listen. You helped Darien through almost every episode of Quicksilver madness he ever experienced. You were with him during the worst pain, the worst fear he ever knew. What makes you think he isn't willing to take his turn in supporting you? What is that phrase you two always use...."  
  
"You never bail on your partner." Bobby replied quietly, his voice cracking as tears began to course down his face again. "It was a vow... a trust between us an' I broke it... I stomped it into the dirt.... I can't expect him to be there for me now...."  
  
"It was bad judgement and you've been forgiven many times over for it. Don't you think it's time you forgave yourself and moved on?"  
  
"That's what Fawkes said this mornin'.... if you always look back you can't see the good stuff that's comin'....."  
  
"He's right. It's time to look ahead. You've got a child to raise and she's going to need both her parents focused on her, not on past mistakes that can't be changed. I have a wonderful idea. There was a rocking chair in the storage room at last inventory. I'll go see if I can find it and meet you in recovery in a few minutes."  
  
"Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Eberts. You saved my little girl.... I'll be in debt to you for a long, long time, my friend. I'm sorry as hell for underestimatin' you all this time. I won't do it again, promise."  
  
"It's alright, Robert. Everyone underestimates me. How else would I ever get anything accomplished?" ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ EARLY WEDNESDAY EVENING  
  
When Bobby finally woke in the rocking chair, it was close to dinner time. As the fog of sleep lifted from him, he panicked for a moment when he found Bobbi was no longer in his arms, but Claire quickly relieved his fear.  
  
"It's alright, Bobby. She's right here, in the isolette. Relax."  
  
"Thank God.... I must've dozed off."  
  
"Yes, for about seven hours." she informed him gently. "It's been a difficult day for everyone. I knew you needed the rest so when I noticed you falling asleep, I just tucked her in over here."  
  
"She's still okay?"  
  
"Just fine."  
  
"Darien?"  
  
"He's had a rough moment or two, but he's stabilized now."  
  
"Rough? What's rough mean? Be straight with me, Claire. Is he gonna wake up?"  
  
"Of course he will. Trust me, Bobby. Darien's in no danger..."  
  
"Yeah? Then why the oxygen mask, huh? You're not tellin' me somethin'. I wanna hear the whole truth, right now!"  
  
"Bobby, please calm down! The rough moments I mentioned happened to involve his breathing, but he's perfectly stable now and he has been for hours. At this point the oxygen is nothing more than a precaution, but I don't want to remove it until he regains consciousness...."  
  
"Guess it's about time, then." A raspy voice commented from the bed beside them.  
  
"Darien!"  
  
"Hey, about time you woke up, partner."  
  
"Who could stay down for the count with you two havin' the fight of the century three feet away?"  
  
"I'm really sorry, kid, I was just so worried. Claire says you're doin' great, though..."  
  
"The baby! Where is she? Is she okay?"  
  
"Absolutely perfect, Darien. Here she is. Here's your little girl." Claire said, gathering Bobbi into her arms.  
  
"You checked her out? You're sure there's nothing wrong?"  
  
"I did the preliminaries; heart, lungs, number of fingers and toes. She's beautiful and perfect. Bobby? Why don't you do the honors?"  
  
"Thanks, keepie. Partner, say happy birthday to your baby girl." Bobby encouraged, carefully laying the baby in Darien's arms.  
  
"Which reminds me, who are we saying happy birthday to? I haven't heard either of you mention a name even once during all of this."  
  
"That's 'cause she picked her own name, right from the beginning." Bobby explained.  
  
"What?"  
  
"He's right. I told you she talks to me.... one of the first messages I got was what her name was gonna be."  
  
"Strong-willed before she ever made it into the world. She's going to be a double handfull, I'm afraid. Well? What name did she choose? Is it that bad? You both look distinctly nervous."  
  
"It's not bad.... we haven't said anything 'cause... we weren't sure how you'd feel."  
  
"You won't know until you tell me."  
  
"I guess.... Claire, say hello to your god-daughter... an' your namesake. This is Roberta Claire Fawkes. Bobbi with an i for short."  
  
"You... she.... oh my. I don't know what to say.... I'm stunned beyond words.... Bobby.... Darien...."  
  
Gazing down at Roberta Claire, Bobby grinned.  
  
"I think she's okay with it, don't you?"  
  
"Oh, yes! I am! More than okay! Thank you, both..."  
  
"Thank her. Like I said, it was her decision."  
  
Darien suddenly realized something was wrong with the name as Bobby had recited it and he quickly voiced his objection.  
  
"That's not right."  
  
"Huh? That's what you told me she wanted to be called. Roberta Claire..."  
  
"Hobbes. She's supposed to have her father's last name."  
  
"No way. Not after all you went through to get her here...."  
  
"My body'll bounce back after some down-time. You.... you opened your heart. You took the risk and you trusted me. I know what it cost you to do that. She gets your name."  
  
Bobby stared at his hands for a long moment before answering.  
  
"If that's the way you want it."  
  
"It's the way Bobbi wants it."  
  
It took a few seconds for Hobbes to get the full meaning of Darien's statement.  
  
"Wait a minute... you don't mean she's still doin' the brain to brain thing..."  
  
"Clear as a bell. I'd say the next twenty-five years are gonna be one big Chinese proverb."  
  
"Chinese... huh?"  
  
"I know what he means." Claire interjected. "It's actually a curse in proverb's clothing. It says 'May you lead an interesting life'."  
  
"For interesting read eternally chaotic with never a quiet moment to yourself?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
"I've been living like that for the past eight months. How could life possibly get anymore "interesting" than my male partner gettin' pregnant and havin' my baby?"  
  
"He has a point."  
  
"Yeah, I guess he does." Darien agreed, retutning his attention to the tiny child in his arms. "Let it get crazy, right Bobbi? We've got the most incredible people in the world to see us through whatever happens. They kept me together while I was waitin' for you, you know. They kept my pieces from goin' missing when I didn't even know where the puzzle was. They're gonna be a big part of your life... just like they're part of mine. And here comes one of 'em now. Hey, Ebes. C'mon in."  
  
"Good evening. I'm so glad to see you're awake. I was becoming quite worried. My, what a pictue you three make. Suitable for framing. She is a lovely child. Healthy, I assume. Doctor?"  
  
As far as I can tell at the moment, yes. The more involved tests aren't on the schedule for a few weeks, but she seems to be fine."  
  
"Thanks to Eberts, she is." Darien declared. "You really pulled it out in the bottom of the ninth. We'll be payin' you back for the rest of your life and ours."  
  
"It was the right thing to do. I couldn't have lived with myself if I'd done any less."  
  
"Yeah, well I can make a start on that payback. You thinkin' what I'm thinkin, Fawkes?"  
  
"Probably. I get to ask him."  
  
"Go for it."  
  
"You up for bein' a Godfather, Ebes?"  
  
"G... Godfather? You can't be serious... I mean..."  
  
"Damn right, I'm serious. You put your ass on the line to knock the Fish outta the box and help us keep our baby. You've earned the privelege. Say yes."  
  
"I... I suppose.... Yes. Of course I accept. I'd be honored."  
  
"Good. You hear that, Bobbi girl? You got an amazing daddy an' a set of top- of-the-line Godparents. What more could any kid ask for, hmm?"  
  
"Bobby? I assumed... the child is a girl, correct?"  
  
"All girl." Bobby responded. "It's Bobbi with an i. Roberta Claire Hobbes."  
  
"Claire? How marvelous for you. Congratulations, doctor."  
  
As Eberts moved forward to embrace Claire, he accidentally knocked against a table and sent a metal tray clattering to the floor. A sudden chorus of gasps and oaths from the other side of the room drew the pair's attention away from the mess. When they discovered, only a few seconds behind her parents, that Bobbi was indeed the proud owner of her own Quicksilver gland, the room overflowed with stunned silence for several seconds. The shocked reticence was broken by Claire.  
  
"Well, that's one test I can cross off my list. It seems yours will be an interesting life indeed, boys. *Very* interesting."  
  
Stepping closer to the bed, Bobby gazed lovingly down at his daughter then turned the look on Darien.  
  
"We can handle interesting. Right, partner?"  
  
"Oh yeah. Not a problem." ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ THURSDAY MORNING  
  
"Quit bein' a wuss, Fawkes. Claire said she wanted you up an' walkin as soon as possible, so I got rid of the wheelchair."  
  
"You're being.... a creep. She didn't say she wanted me.... luggin' stuff around that you... could've carried yourself." Darien spat back, grimacing as residual pain from the surgery made its presence known. When Bobby saw this he immediately felt guilty and rushed to relieve Darien of the burden; a portable stereo and a small bag containing tapes, CD's and various other items he'd thought might keep his partner from getting bored over the next two days.  
  
"You really in that much pain, still? I can get Claire to up your meds...."  
  
"No. No way. All they do is make me sleep. I wanna spend time holdin' Bobbi, not showin' her how bad I snore."  
  
Finally making it back to the bed, Darien leaned on the footrail for a moment, catching his breath and watching Bobby set up the music system and pop in a tape.  
  
"Is that the one you've been makin' for me all these months?"  
  
"Nah. Same brand though. This one is for Bobbi.... an' you too, I guess. Mostly for her. I couldn't sleep without you there last night.... so I stayed up with the radio and Claire's big stereo back at the house.... I made some requests, took a couple songs from CD.... I didn't get everything I wanted till three-thirty."  
  
"I never knew you were so into music. You never really talked about yourself that much, about likes an' dislikes, what you were into."  
  
"Nobody ever wanted to hear it before. I did my job, went home, slept bad, got up an' did it all again the next day. I didn't care anymore so I didn't figure anybody else would. You.... you were different. It almost took me too damn long to see it.... anyway, you feel like hearin' this now? If you're wiped out, it's okay..."  
  
"I'm terrific. Play it."  
  
Bobby pushed the play button and strolled away from Darien and the machine. Despite how much the other man had opened him up and made emotion easier for him, Bobby still wasn't competely comfortable with his own tears. Recording the first piece on the tape had taken him two hours all by itself, though it only lasted six minutes. He had had to keep going back and starting again every time his voice broke or he began to cry, which was every few minutes.  
  
He realized that nothing he could have done would have kept the listener from clearly hearing how much of his heart had gone into the words he'd written, and in truth, as long as the the listener was Darien Fawkes, he wanted his feelings to come through. Bobby was desperate for Darien to know and understand all he hadn't yet found the courage to say while they were standing in the same room and as his words poured from the small speakers, he prayed they would be enough.  
  
# Welcome to the world, Roberta Claire Hobbes. It's your dad. I know you won't understand this right now, but later.... I hope I'm around when you're older an' I can watch you listen to this and see how you react. I might not be, your mom might not be, but trust me you've got the greatest Godparents in the world, an' they'll take care of you. Treat Claire an' Eberts like gold, kiddo, 'cause they're worth their weight in it.  
  
I've heard people talk about moments that, when you go back an' remember, they're like snapshots in your head. Those moments that never leave you, that turn your life around 180° and send you shootin' off in a direction you never expected. Your old dad's one of the luckiest guys in the world, baby girl, 'cause I've had three of those moments; the day I first met your mom, the day I found out he was carryin' you an' today when you were born. I'm still reelin' from that. I just watched my child, my sweet little Bobbi, be born. I never dared to think I'd ever have a kid. Wasn't sure God wrote it in my script, but you're here. Through hell an' high water an' a lot of pain on your mom's part, you're here. Your mom... boy is he a story. A really, really long one. I'll try to just hit the highlights an' the happy endin'.  
  
Your mom is.... geez, what is he, exactly? That's too long a list to get into right now. I'd need another tape. What matters is, he's everything to me. He made me believe in myself again. When he an' I met, the world thought I was washed up an' so did I, but he showed me the truth. He taught me how to spit on what the world thought about me. He gave me back my confidence, my strength an' my self-esteem. If I'm worth a plug nickel to anybody today, it's because a'him.  
  
I do love him, Bobbi. No matter how much we fight, or what we might say. I couldn't stop lovin' him now, even if I wanted to, which I don't. I'm pretty sure he still loves me too, though Lord knows why. I've done enough stupid stuff to make a saint break camp an' hop a flight for the Bahamas, but he never turned his back on me. Not for long, anyhow. By the way; he'll tell you I saved him too, but don't you believe a word of it. He's the strong one. He changed his life all on his own. I just gave him a solid pivot point an' a place to go when he'd turned himself around. That's all.  
  
Your parents had it rough growin' up, baby. My biggest hope is that we can make it better for you. Your mom an' I both love you to the stars an' back, Bobbi. As long as you know that, you'll always be okay. The songs I put on here are for you..... to tell you how I feel. Your mom's a master at pullin' me outta my shell, but I'm not all the way out yet, so it's kinda hard for me to just... say it. These guys do it better. Happy birthday, Bobbi Claire. Hope you like your present.#  
  
'Good mornin', beautiful. How was your night? Mine was wonderful with you by my side. When I open my eyes to see your sweet face, It's a good mornin', beautiful day.  
  
I couldn't see the light, I didn't know day from night. I had no reason to care. Since you came along, I can face the dawn 'Cause I know you'll be there.  
  
Good mornin', beautiful. How was your night...'  
  
As the first song faded into the second, Bobby finally turned around to seek out Darien, unable to stand not knowing any longer. He found the other man seated on the bed, cradling Bobbi over his shoulder and slowly rocking her forward and back, his tears soaking her one-piece jumper. Moving to the other side where there was empty space, Hobbes sat down beside him and circled his partner's waist with one arm.  
  
"You okay, kid?"  
  
He was rewarded with a slight nod.  
  
"When it finishes...."  
  
"Yeah? What?"  
  
"Bobbi says rewind it and play it again."  
  
"How about you?"  
  
"I'm with her."  
  
"Okay. You got it." ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
Standing outside the room where Hobbes and Darien sat together, Alex Monroe watched the new family through the small window. Slowly, the path to redemption she'd once considered a viable option became consumed in blackness. The same dark energy, the force that had been eating away at her for months, finally claimed her. Her heart turned to a bright flame fed by jealousy, imagined betrayal and self-righteous fury and that flame made soft gray ash and bitter, malodorous creosote out of the contents of her soul. When the Official slid up beside her and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, she allowed it to remain, even welcomed it.  
  
"You don't need to be here. You're only torturing yourself. Put them out of your mind for now. We have far more important things to focus on. Let's go."  
  
When he turned away, guiding hand still on her shoulder, she moved with him willingly, hoping against hope that anything and everything he had in mind would feed the developing black hole within her and complete the brutal execution of whatever pieces of her conscience she hadn't already allowed to be destroyed. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
EPILOGUE:  
  
As the doctor slowly strolled into the room, he gazed around, confused. The occupant of the chamber usually rushed out to see him, glad to have someone he trusted nearby instead of the ghouls and uncaring attendants whose attentions took up the majority of his time. When noone immediately appeared, the doctor became concerned and began to search the room. He found nothing, except, on his last frantic circuit, an object he had somehow missed up to that point; a sheet of notebook paper carefully placed on the table that sat in the center of the large open space. Just seeing the paper made his heart sink and his stomach knot. He knew it could mean nothing good, not in a place such as this. Despite his fear and misgivings, he walked to the table and retrieved the paper and found it not so terrible as he'd thought.  
  
#Dearest Sydney,  
  
You'll know who this is from, I think, so I won't bother telling you at the outset. If you can't guess you aren't as smart as I thought you were, but just in case I'll sign all my names, real and false, at the close of this letter.  
  
Several weeks back, I heard you discussing with a colleague the anticipated arrival of an "orphaned" baby girl and decided to look into the situation myself. What I found apalled me. No child brought here has been abandoned, orphaned or surrendered. I have to believe you know that now, Sydney, even if you didn't always. Her case is no different. After discovering where she would be coming from, I began communications with someone on that end and enlisted his help. I provided him... useful information that would make life extremely difficult for the man who set this in motion if it ever got out. I also arranged for a few messages to be sabotaged and altered on my end, and together we have assured that she will not fall into the hands of this wicked, monstrous place, a place that has spawned so many broken, lost adults from innocent babies.  
  
As you must realize by now, I am much more than any of you here believe I am. That has been a deliberate deception on my part.The treatments you provided me so long ago worked beyond even your considerable expectations and they continue to do so. The final shot was never necessary, I'm sure you'll be relieved to know. The formula has stayed in my system performing its wondrous and magical transformations. I think you've suspected this for quite a while, but if so, it's because you were always the only one to see me as a human and not a tool.  
  
You'd be so proud of me, my friend. I've read every book you ever brought me and I often sneak to the library to obtain more.You restored my mind to me, Sydney. I am almost whole again. Almost. None of us who've been touched by the darkness here, Jarod, Parker, you, can ever be whole again. They've stolen something from us, something precious and irreplaceable that will always stay here, even after we leave.  
  
Which brings me to my point. I have to go, Sydney. As dear as you've been to me and as grateful as I am to you for my mind, I can't be aware of what this place truly is and remain in it. Jarod chose his breaking point, his time to re-enter the world. I've chosen mine. In fact, if you're reading this. I'm already gone. I've made plans to meet with Jarod. He'll see me safely to a new home.... and a new life. Good-bye my savior, my friend. Assure Parker that I'll be alright. If you'd pass this on to her, I'd appreciate it. On the condition that she keep it to herself, of course.  
  
No. On second thought, I'll be safe by the time she sees it, so she can tell anyone she damn well pleases.  
  
My love to Broots, Miss Parker and to you,  
  
Angelo/Timothy/William Aidan Bradley  
  
END EPILOGUE  
  
END STORY  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 


End file.
